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phntmeii · 7 months

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Slashers and Hanahaki Disease

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

Hanahaki Disease: A fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies.

Characters: Poly!Ghostface(Billy Loomis, Stu Macher), PreMichael!Corey Cunningham, Hannibal Lecter(TV Ver.), Jason Voorhees, RZ!Michael Myers

General Warnings: Mainly fluffy w/ happy endings, Mentions of death, Mentions of vomiting/gagging

A/N: Half the listed characters will have Hanahaki disease while the other half the reader has Hanahaki disease. Some other notes, I sped up how quickly Hanahaki affects people to a few weeks at max and included what type of flower I think would best fit in these situations :) Most are related to heartbreak, loss, death/rebirth, unrequited love.

Poly!Ghostface - Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Flower Type: Purple Hyacinth

You had taken some days off of class, feeling too sick to go. Your parents didn’t believe you but you looked the definition of ill.

And heartbreak was just the cherry on top for you. Whether you had feelings for Billy or for Stu was already confusing but on top of that, you felt like you weren’t either of their types.

You had seen the people they went out with over the years and you were just never like them. Your own love life was failure after failure but it's not like they were offering themselves up in their place.

You were just the bestfriend in your mind. That’s all. And soon enough, violet petals were being thrown up into the toilet bowl every few hours and you could feel your lungs filling, getting hard to breathe over time.

Both Billy and Stu thought it was weird you skipped class. You’d at least give a heads up beforehand. Billy was more worried than Stu was.

He visited through your window at night to check in on you just to catch you in a pile of violet flowers across your bed covers while you laid there, casually watching a movie while you occasionally coughed some more up.

“What the fuck is that? Are you okay? Me and Stu thought you up and died.”

Looking over, you gave a weak smile in response. “Feels like I am.”

Soon you heard some clanging from the window Billy came in from and found Stu stumbling in, nearly knocking some things down before he hopped back up.

Stu gave a goofy smile as he held up some bottles before Billy looked at him with unamused eyes and snatched the bottles out of his hands as if to say, “Not now.”

Sitting down with you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain but it sounded so silly. Throwing up flowers? And for seemingly no reason.

“Well… There’s diseases that are caused by stress? You think it’s something like that? Come on. You’ve been acting like shit for the past few weeks.”

You sat there between them and could think of one main thing but… How stupid that sounded. You didn’t want to say it.

Stu shook your shoulders playfully before getting smacked in the back of the head by Billy. “Come on! Tell us! What’s so embarrassing~?”

You sighed and reluctantly explained. You had a crush on them—your bestfriends—and you were definitely not their type. You were completely embarrassed, covering your mouth as you coughed up a few more violet petals.

Billy and Stu stared at each other after you said that, as if silently communicating to one another. Billy slowly smirked while Stu started laughing and wrapped his arms around you from the side.

“Seriously?! Holy shit, dude! You seriously haven’t noticed we were totally into you too?!”

You couldn’t even process what Stu said with how tight he squeezed you with his hug. By the time you finally noticed, you were once again distracted when you felt two different hands holding your jaw as Billy leaned in from one side while Stu leaned in the other and kissed your cheeks.

“ We’ve been into you forever…” Those small words felt like they made room within your lungs again.

PreMichael!Corey Cunningham

Flower Type: Red Salvia

Corey had met you in passing and you didn’t mind becoming friends with him. He was an awkward nerd and it was a trait you found charming to be friends with.

But to Corey, it was hell when he discovered the petals that soon formed and flew out of his mouth.

He had developed a crush on you immediately when he met you. You were simultaneously his heaven and hell. Someone so nice to him and yet the reason he found it harder and harder to breathe.

He avoided you for a week or so. He was so used to self-isolating himself when something went wrong. Deal with it himself as he always did.

Corey figured it was connected to you. It started the day after he felt those feelings rise in him. To make sure, he visited the doctor’s and found the term: Hanahaki Disease. And it was because of you.

He didn’t want to say anything about it. His fate was sealed in his eyes. But… maybe?

He decided to send a text to meet up. Better to talk about it in person even if it made him nervous to.

“Hey… I- I really didn’t want to y’know bother you or anything-“ “Corey, you don’t bother me. It’s alright. What is it?”

Corey shyly looked down and smiled to himself. God, it hurt to think that you wouldn’t like him. You were so perfect for him.

“I know this is gonna sound weird and if I'm honest I thought it was weird too. I-I’m… dying. From uh… Not having requited love...” As if on queue, he coughed, revealing red petals flying out of his mouth to the ground.

You were obviously immediately worried. To hear such heavy words from Corey made your heart drop. You had to ask who. Maybe he could still convince them to share the same feelings.

Corey scratched the back of his head, looking away. He didn’t want to say it. Especially since he didn’t want to leave you with the news that it was because of you that he had an expiration date coming soon.

“It’s… you. It’s always been you.”

A few whole Red Salvia flowers came out of his mouth after the confession. He grew increasingly embarrassed, wanting to take back his words already. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Just let his life take its course and end quick without you knowing.

But then, those moments of silence were interrupted by you approaching and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. His lips were slightly chapped from nerves and his overthinking made him think he should’ve done something about them sooner but he was more focused on how soft you felt. His heart swelled at the touch while his hands went to your cheeks, deepening the kiss further out of pure need.

Hannibal Lecter

Flower Type: Red Spider Lily

Hannibal was not one to ever be sick. It rarely happened, if ever. He took care of his health perfectly.

When he started to feel himself grow ill, he immediately knew something was wrong. Coughing was one thing but it was a completely different thing to find himself feeling the urge to vomit and finding flowers fly out of his mouth.

Staring at the red flowers in the toilet bowl, he already knew it wasn’t something normal. In fact, he already knew what it was.

The knowledgeable man he was, Hanahaki was a term that came to mind but with a sense of confusion.

He didn’t necessarily care for people like others did. His “care” for other people was a mask of feigned empathy. Not real.

But if he had this disease, something was different. And it was love of all things? It complicated everything.

There was only one person that came to mind that could possibly fit the supposed feeling he felt: You. His patient.

He kept it hidden still. Suffering in silence because falling in love was not something he was interested in. It would cloud his emotions.

And yet, he began asking about your love life during your sessions. Previous relationships, expectations of love, etc. A collection of information to mold himself into what you wanted.

He invited you over for dinners more and presented you with flowers each session. Each bouquet with meaning and cleanly composed together.

You were his muse. The focus of his musical compositions and the focus of his sketches when he had free time.

His eyes even sparkled softly toward you sometimes if you looked close enough.

But Hannibal knew his days were numbered and he had to say something before the flowers filled his lungs and killed him.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it. His vomiting became more frequent and he could feel how difficult it was to breathe.

After one of your dinners with him and he was walking you to the door, he stopped you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he gently tilted your face to look at him.

“My dear… Please indulge me in my desire for you. It’s grown insatiable.”

He started to lean in toward your lips. He’d memorized the shape a thousand times over through his sketches by now. Each quick line put to paper was a written wish to feel them on his own. “I’ll grow mad without knowing what you taste like.”

His eyes met yours when he was centimeters away from your lips, breath mixing into one another’s. “Tell me you wish the same.”

His eyes looked to you with a slight desperation to them. Once he received the confirmation, that soft whisper of a “Yes…”, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and felt like life had been breathed into him.

Jason Voorhees

Flower Type: Lily of the Valley

Jason hadn't thought about romance much in his life, not thinking he'd be fortunate to experience it. He thought he had a face only his mother could love after all.

Finding you, you were never mean to him. If anything, you were solely kind to him and he was happy at the treatment.

Then worry set in when he noticed you weren't coming to the cabin as often. You usually visited and left some meals for him and candles to dedicate to his mother.

He worried heavily. Jason automatically believed he was in the wrong. Maybe he had scared you or had done something wrong. He was never good at social cues or interacting with people.

He sat there, waiting for you to come back. You wouldn't completely leave right? Or maybe something happened to you? What if you were dead?

Jason could only find his worries settled when he heard footsteps and saw you again. He immediately rushed out and hugged you.

He signed, "Where have you been?? I was so worried!"

Jason noticed you seemed paler than normal and you looked exhausted. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"

He didn't know how to take care of someone who was sick. His mother always took care of him. But he was willing to try.

"I... Yeah. I'm sick, Jason. I've been sick for a week or so now. Vomiting and all."

You couldn't see his expression but he was certainly concerned. He placed a hand on your shoulder. "I'll take care of you."

Whether you wanted to or not, Jason was already dragging you inside and sitting you down. He didn't know how to help, only that he wanted to help.

That's when you coughed and small white petals flew out of your mouth and into your lap. Jason tilted his head at that. Flowers? He had never heard of someone coughing up flowers before.

Jason forcibly kept you in the cabin until you could get better. You were his only friend. The only one who treated him like a person. He didn't want to lose that.

Few days pass and nothing. Petals had become full flowers with stems needing to be yanked out. You gagged each time you had to rip out the flower by its stem.

You thought you might die. A sickness you had never heard of along with it getting quickly worse? You couldn't help but recognize where this was going.

You laid beside Jason at night. He was attached to the hip with you in your stay. You figured now was a better time than never saying it at all.

You took his hand into yours, something that made Jason give you his full attention. "Jason. I just wanted you to know that... I love you. I need you to know that."

Jason could feel his heart jolt at that confession. It was said in a more sad tone than a happy one but all the same, it was the words said that mattered. "Do you mean it? Are you sure?"

Nodding your head with a weak smile, you placed a kiss on the cheek of his mask. Jason could feel his face heat up at that. No one had ever treated him like that before.

He grabbed your hands, maybe a bit too strong in his grasp, as he signed rapidly in excitement. "I love you too. You're the only one who likes me. I want you to stay. Please."

You felt slight pain in your lungs as the stems that had begun taking root in them slowly retracted and dissipated. He was your cure.

RZ!Michael Myers

Flower Type: White Rose

Michael had inhabited your home for some time. He needed a home base to return to when he wasn’t stalking for victims.

You couldn’t say much against it, fearing you’d be next. And he wasn’t the worst guest?

Besides blood needing to be cleaned, he was silent. You could barely even notice him there if it wasn’t for his giant size.

Over time, you noticed how he grew closer to you. Literally. He loomed over you while you cooked or cleaned. You’d get jumpscared by how you’d turn a corner and see him standing there. He also started preventing you from leaving if he was there.

Michael would stand in front of the door, staring you down until you understood to stay home. Seeing you listen, he gave the most affection he’d ever show: patting your head.

And you grew an odd attachment to him. You’d worry if he was out for too long and worried if he ever came back injured.

You two were attached. In what way, you couldn’t answer that question but you didn’t mind being close to him. Even if he never showed affection or attachment, you knew he felt something. Otherwise, you would’ve been dead already.

Michael never spoke nor gave indication of what he was feeling ever. You could only ever notice the extremes. And when you noticed Michael in his room for longer than normal, you wanted to help even if he always pushed you away.

You knocked but no answer. Knocked twice and still nothing. You took that as a “no entry” and sadly turned away.

Right as you did, the door opened and Michael looked to you with his same deadpan stare you always knew. His hands littered with white rose petals. You didn’t understand until he coughed again, more petals coming out.

You didn’t know how to react to it other than to grow concerned. His hands dropped the petals and grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them. His eyes looked to you and for the first time, there was a slight hint of fear there.

It was odd to see such a large man who had survived hell and back to show fear now. You guided him to the couch, wanting him to feel comfortable.

You grabbed his hand, forgetting how he was a murderer, forgetting how his hands were responsible for the deaths of so many. “Michael…”

He exhaled in response, looking at you through the strands of hair covering his face. He forcibly grabbed your hand, pulling you to him. Ending up in his lap, he held onto you, still silently staring. He buried his head in your chest, squeezing you tight. He didn’t want to let go.

You let your arms hold him to you, caressing the back of his head. You placed a small kiss to the top of his head.

“Michael… It’s okay. I’m here.”

Michael couldn’t take finally having an affectionate touch after so long. Restraint was something he never knew and letting himself have an ounce of it was like opening Pandora’s box. He pulled away and slammed his lips into yours. He pushed you down on the couch, placing his hands on either side of your face, trapping you there.

And yet, you didn’t deny him. You matched his desperate, sloppy kiss. And Michael could feel the air in his lungs return only to be immediately used from his kissing and grunting. And you knew where this was going when you felt his slight runting against your leg.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#slasher fucker #slasher headcanons #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slashers headcanons #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x reader #rz michael myers #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #billy loomis x reader #stu matcher x you #stu macher x reader #jason voorhes x reader #jason voorhees x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #corey cunningham x reader

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super-who-locked-me-in-here · 4 months

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Imagining Hannigram being bored so Will suggests they play fuck marry kill

~~~

Hannibal, extremely seriously: I would kill everyone.

Will: I haven't even told you who your choices are.

Hannibal: It doesn't matter. They aren't you. I don't want to marry or make love to anyone else. So I will kill them.

Will: Okay but what if I was one of the options?

Hannibal: Smash

Will, confused: What do you even mean, "smash"?

Hannibal, proud of himself: It means I would take you to bed with me. The other option is pass.

Will: No I know that. I'm asking how you know that.

Hannibal, suddenly avoiding eye contact: I might remind you that I spent a great amount of time as the only person Abigail could interact with.

Will, triggered: Oh okay but did she teach you about Smash or Pass: Pillow Version? Yeah it's a fun time where I smash this ostentatious throw pillow into your face and continue to do so until you pass out and die.

Hannibal, desperately trying to change the subject: My darling beloved dearest would you not choose to... fuck me... Or marry me instead? Be my husband?

Will: I'm going to give you a five second head start

Hannibal, who has come to learn the difference between Will's "I'm going to give you scars because I'm the only one who can" righteous fury and his "I am going to carve out your heart and put it down the fucking garbage disposal" threatening anger, understanding its the latter and already halfway out the front door: I'll be back to make you dinner my love

~~~

I imagine Will does let him back into the house without killing him after that but he makes Hannibal sleep on the $30,000 antique sofa that he bought for aesthetics and not comfort that night, and in the morning when Hannibal wakes up incredibly sore and somewhat regretful, Will offers to massage his back.

Of course Hannibal is like "omg affection from Will" and takes him up on it and so he lays out on the bed and feels Will straddle his thighs to do the massage and he's expecting warm gentle hands and then he feels the chill of one of his scalpels against the side of his neck and Will whispers to him "don't ever. bring up any of my children again."

And then Will does the massage and it turns into an event because Hannibal was just a little bit scared by Will's threats but also extremely turned on by them.

#crack treated seriously #?#hannibal #hannibal crack #hannigram #murder husbands #fuck marry kill #smash or pass

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marshmallowdarling · 3 months

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Hi! I love reading your story's, can I request a yandere Hannibal x fem reader please?😊💕

It’s not surprising that Hannibal plays the long game but Hannibal also makes the game.

It was easy for him to set up the game, almost laughably easy. He was a renowned therapist who helps police on cases, strong, smart, made a name for himself- a good name. Your parents didn’t even have a chance to have doubts when he came to ask for your hand in marriage. If anything your parents were elated, over the moon that you, the black sheep of the family, had the eye of a man like Hannibal. They practically threw poor little you to into his hands.

One thing Hannibal likes is politeness, manners, and no matter when or how Hannibal had meet you he was struck with the need to understand you, figure you out and not in his usual killing urge type of way. After a few months or even years of following you around he finally realises what it is, love.

Does he really think its love? Not really, its something deeper, more sinister than love. He would rip apart anyone that would try to hurt you, he wants to keep you safe with such feral intensity it’s not sane. But he himself can’t even breathe at the thought of hurting you himself either so he chalks it up with a simple word. Love.

He should have seen it coming, really he should’ve since he had been watching and ‘protecting’ you for so long, but he’s still struck shocked when you fight back your holy matrimony with such pettiness and sass. You couldn’t stop your parents from practically forcing you to agree to marry him, getting dressed up in a dress you didn’t really care about, everything too grand and nothing like what the little girl in you envisioned. So, in retaliation you tried everything to get him to re-think his decision, anything to get him to divorce you, even if it meant being a sassy brat. Turning your nose up at his delicious food just to piss him off, doing little things you knew he hated just to push his buttons.

It’s cute, he thinks, really cute that you think being a brat would stop his heart from yearning for you so much his physically body aches being away from you. But you aren’t a brat, are you? Your just pretending because your sick of your parents stupid pressuring expectations, hating how they dictated every little thing in your life and now your ‘life’ partner.

Every time you push and shove and take bits and pieces of his sanity it just fuels his obsession for you, every time he feels himself get frustrated or irritated it just makes him more head over heels over you. Staring at you with hearts practically in his eyes as you make his blood boil, he takes everything in stride. With a polite smile on his lips and insanity in his heart eyes.

But he does feel bad, really he does, he feels bad that you have terrible no good rotten parents who are ready throw you to the wolves once they get their greed filled, or bad enough for a man who feels no remorse or guilt. Maybe its pity, he thinks, like how one looks at a wounded animal. But he could never see you at a level as an animal, no matter how adorably cute you are. Maybe a goddess then, a fallen goddess, he worships you as if you’re a goddess anyways, taking your sass and anger as some sort of twisted love from a holier being.

He can’t help the feeling of amusement that bubbles up when he see’s you try to be a brat, but the manners engraved into your very soul peek out, like your body and mind are fighting on your decision to pretend to be mean when your really such a sweet nice darling.

The little ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ that come out when you demand something from him or the sweet little ‘no thank you�� that you give him when you pretend to glare at him with faux hatred in your eyes, because you didn’t really hate him. How could you? He was unbelievably sweet and attentive, picking up on the little things you didn’t even know about yourself until he picks up on it. He was the best husband anyone could ask for, in and out, even if he could be a little serious, cold and calculative at times. Hannibal shields you from everyone, including your parents, shutting them down so quickly and efficiently when they start their bullshit of bringing you down it seems natural.

And one day your fake anger towards him slips, your tipsy on alcohol and his love, its all consuming but it feels oddly soothing, like cool balm on an open wound. You stumble and almost trip, but his arms are already there to catch you, ready to do anything to keep you safe and without thinking you lean up and press a soft, albeit clumsy, kiss on his lips.

Something in Hannibal snaps. The kiss, as quick and fleeting as it was felt like heaven. Like he was reborn, like for once in his life he could finally breathe.

You gave this dirty, blood-stained sinner a slice of heaven and now he’s your most devoted worshiper at your alter. For better, or for worse.

Hannibal has you pressed in a mean mating press, one of your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. The thin handmade anklet he got you for your wedding present, dainty and small, designed from start to finish by him with a little ‘H’ dangling on it chimes in his ear and makes his head spin.

“I- god- I love you so much.” He groans out, sweat clinging to his brow as his messy blonde hair sticks to his skin. “Goddess." He murmurs into your skin, pressing his lips against your ankle, kissing all the way up to the side of your knee as he saours the way your skin feels on his lips. Pulling back he licks your sweat that smeared on his lips and he smirks.

His pupils are wide and blown as he gazes down at you with so much love and tenderness it hurts. Sweat clung to his muscular frame as he threw his head back, groaning so low you feel it in your tummy.

Your in worse shape than him, yourpractically writhing under him, not able to escape the torturous pleasure as he puts all his weight down onto you. As sweaty if not more than him, twisting and bucking and shaking, hair messed and sprawled out on the bed beneath you, eye brows knitted. Your breath being selfishly stolen by him as he takes and takes, gasps the only thing able to leaven you as well as broken keens and whimpers. You had long stopped trying to muffle your embarrassingly lewd noises, he had practically growled at you to let them out, not letting you hide anything from him.

Sparks zing up your spine as he hits deep and a wail leaves you, your hand coming to push at his lower stomach, nails scratching over his muscles. Hannibal moans and his eyes roll at the feeling, quickly snatching your hand he slams it softly next to your head. His fingers entwining with his as he locks them together.

Long deep slow strokes makes your brain melt out of your ears, brain gone all fuzzy as you get addicted to him and his touch.

“Take it sweetheart, I know you can.” His breath hitches as he forces your thighs open wider to accommodate him, he looms over your more and the change of position makes you cry out. “Let me worship you my goddess, your mine, all mine.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Woo wee thats finally done! I hope my first proper attempt at smut was ok I think there was another ask for Hannibal but it was H/C's, I'LL GET TO YOU MY LOVELY I PROMISE 😭 Im trying to get back into writing but its hard, im sorry but I will get to you all. Some might be before others just because some things kick start my writing process 🥺 But please keep sending requests I love the ideas and support even if it takes me a bit to get to them. Hope you enjoy lovelies.

~Mwah ♡

#yandere #soft!yandere #tw yandere #darling core #chubby reader #yandere x reader #cw yandere #softyandere #soft yandere #yandere smut #yandere lemons #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere hannibal #tw.yandere #tw.dark content

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 9 months

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Hello. Can you write Dark!Thranduil and a plus size female reader ? Please.

.⋆｡Auta Nissë｡⋆.

Dark!Thranduil x human!plus size reader

She was unique, she was beautiful, she was soft and by the gods, she would be his

Warnings: DARK FIC, kidnapping, forced marriage, obsession, mentions of death, magic, manipulation, no use of y/n, drugging

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Title means kept woman

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was certainly curious, a woman among the group of dwarves his guards had brought him- and a human woman at that. She stood out from the group like a sore thumb, yet she fit in with them all the same. They crowded around her legs as if to shield her from his gaze, to protect her from whatever he had in store for the trespassers.

“How fascinating, a woman in your midst. Tell me, king under the mountain, is she your bed warmer or just a lost creature you took pity on?” He sat forward on his throne of knotted wood, his crystal blue eyes focused on her, taking in every inch of her face. She showed no fear, nor any offence to his crudeness. The king smirked, she would do well.

The dwarves around her exploded, each attempting to insult him in not only the common tongue but in their native language as well. He paid them no mind, letting his gaze drift down to her body. She was at least modest, a large white shirt and dark trousers hid her away, disguising her curves quite well but he could still see the bulge of her hips and the softness of her stomach.

She was unlike any woman he had encountered before. Her eyes held the fire of a warrior, her hands were as stable as a healer’s, and the protective stance of a mother. “Take them away, but leave the girl. I believe she will tell us what we wish to know.” He spoke over their shoats, ignoring the way that they all reached for her as if their pathetic efforts could somehow save her.

Her fingers curled into her palm but otherwise gave him no reaction to suddenly being isolated. Gracefully, he stood to his full height, easily towering over the woman, casting a dark shadow over her as he approached. “Why do you travel with such… filth?” He crooned.

“I was hired to do so.” She answered simply, her voice strong. It carried through the throne room like a lone instrument in a concert hall and settled into his bones, marking them with the melodic tones of her words. A fire began to grow in his loins.

He took a step closer, she did not flinch. “I could offer you a place here, in my court. Certainly your skills and your beauty would be of more value here than on some fruitless journey that will only end in death.” As he drew closer, more of her perfect imperfections became clearer- her moles and birthmarks, scars and blemishes, but to him, they were simply an extra detail in the statuesque flawlessness of her figure.

“If it ends in death, then that will be how I die.” She retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze once more as he was now only arm’s distance away. “I am human, death is not unknown to us.”

The side of Thranduil’s face burned with rage, reminding him of what he had lost to death all those many years ago. But that defiance, that drive so similar to that of his late wife, soothed the burn. “There are ways to cheat death, even for a human. But for now, it is my wish that you remain here until I decide how your quest shall continue.” With a flick of his slender wrist, he summoned two more guards.

They stood either side of her and began to lead her away. “You cannot stop fate, your highness.” She called, making him pause. The doors slammed closed behind her, leaving the great elven king to his thoughts.

——————

“I’m glad you joined me for dinner tonight.” He remarks while knowing that she had no choice. The Battle of The Five Armies had concluded months ago, Erebore was free and peace had finally settled over the land, yet Thranduil was still in the midst of his own war.

She refused his love. Isolating herself in the rooms he had so graciously given her, throwing away the luxurious food prepared fresh each day, even attempting to enact various escape attempts, but that had slowed significantly when she was moved to his own chambers and could be restrained each night in his arms.

Her silence irked him but he allowed it. “I wish that you would gain back some weight before the wedding.” She glared in response, merely sipping at her wine with her one free hand, the other bound to the ornate seat she was forced into.

He sighed through his nose, hiding a smirk behind his own goblet. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drank the expensive liquor, savouring the sweet taste, unknowing that it was not the wine itself that gave the dark liquid its flavour.

“Meletril.” (lover) He tuts, rising from his own chair to round the table. “Your hair is a mess. Let me fix it for you.” She was stiff as his slender fingers began to pick at her hair, delicately moving large strands into several braids. He worked quickly, the patterns and movements now an unconscious practice even if he had not practised in almost 1000 years.

“There, now I can properly see your pretty face.” His right hand cupped her full cheek, guiding her face upwards to him. Her eyes were now glassy, the potion he had snuck into her drink beginning to affect her, but her fire was still there, just existing as an ember now.

“This will not last, I will perish sooner or later and you will be left alone again.” She hissed, the bite in her tone significantly dulled. Yet Thranduil smiled and brushed her soft skin with his thumb before retreating back to his seat.

“Thorin sends his well-wishes, he is very excited about the wedding. And your little friend, what was his name, oh right! Bilbo, he will be journeying from the Shire with his nephew to attend.” Her nostrils flared with rage.

“Just kill me already! I am of no use to you other than a pet!” She cried, though her voice was beginning to slur as the magic took hold of her.

The elven king slammed his hand on the table, immediately silencing her. “Enough! I have had enough of your silly rebellions and cruel words. You will be my wife simply because I love you. So no more silly speak of you being a pet, you are my equal, my queen but you obviously need to be reminded of your place. You are to never leave my side, death will not take you, I have made sure of that. Now eat.” Her eyes were now wide with panic, the truth finally settling in.

“What have you done?” Her skin began to glow as the transformation began. The king watched as all the indicators of her age were wiped away, the smile lines, the bags beneath her eyes, even scarring from the blemishes of puberty. She was ethereal, eternal now, just like him.

“I have changed your fate.”

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ficnation · 6 months

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Chapter 2: Biting Into the Past

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 3,9k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings

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Will’s eyes flutter open gradually, the gentle sunlight caressing his pupils with its warm, comforting fingers, slowly coaxing him out of the dreamless slumber. He isn’t drenched in sweat like always, and there’s no sign of dread in his mind. It’s a peacefulness he missed so much—a peacefulness that was taken from him a long time ago.

The man rubs sleep away from his eyes with the back of his hand. He lies still for a while before the events of yesterday rise up to life in his clouded brain. He lets his arm fall limply onto your side of the bed. The sheets are cold underneath his palm. You’ve been gone for a while already, and he’s surprised your movement didn’t wake him up earlier. Will mumbles out your name, propping himself up on his elbow as he looks around the room.

You sit on the carpet in front of the fireplace, back leaning against one of the armchairs. The fire casts a warm glow over your skin as you pull the blanket draped over your legs a little higher. Your focus is solely on the book grasped in your hands—it’s a picture of pure serenity. Eyes glued to the pages in front of you, you allow the words—each line and sentence—to carry you away into the distant lands of the story.

“What are you reading?” Will asks, his voice spiked with a twinge of raspiness that’s always there in the mornings or when he’s sick.

You turn your head toward him slowly, but you keep your eyes on the page till the end of the sentence. When you finally look at him, he can’t help but smile at you softly—you mirror him in an instant.

You close the book and raise it above your head, giving the brunet a clear view of its cover. “The Godfather,” you reply with a cheeky glint in your eyes.

“Again?” He raises his eyebrow in curiosity.

You’ve read that book at least six times already, and Will could never figure out why it pulled you in so much—why did it keep you from reaching for something new and different. Was it the feeling of familiarity, fear of change, or did you genuinely enjoy the fictional world of Italian mafia so much?

You stand up and stretch your arms over your head with a satisfied groan. You don’t even need to use a bookmark before you put “The Godfather” back into its designated spot on one of the shelves.

Will sits up a little straighter as you throw the blanket over your shoulders and join him in bed. You find a seat between his quilt-covered thighs and drape your legs over his hips, crossing your ankles behind his back. Will’s breath hitches in his throat.

“You’ve been missing out,” you say with a cheeky grin, pulling yourself just a tad bit closer, craving the heat of his body.

The man in front of you takes a deep breath, then readies himself to disagree. He’s seen enough of murder and scheming to last him a lifetime. But before he can object, you lean in and seal his lips closed with a kiss.

Will doesn’t even think of resisting as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, like he has no intention of ever letting go. When you pull away, his eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. He looks downright angelic—absolutely gorgeous.

“We should probably get up,” you say, teasing him—testing him. Your fingers find solace in the messy brown curls on top of his head, tugging gently.

“In a little while… Just a few more seconds…” Will moans out, already lost in the sensuality of your touch. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and just breathes you in like a drug.

Your fingers run through his hair again, and he can’t help but bite down on your flesh softly. You whimper, and it spurs him on to continue, so he soothes your skin with the tip of his tongue, tasting you, before he kisses you again. There’s no thinking, no reason in his head that tells him he should stop—there’s only longing. He’s waited so long to be able to do this again, he can’t deprive himself of this—he can’t deprive himself of you .

With a hand on his diaphragm, you push him away gently, and he drops back onto the pillows with a heavy sigh. He looks up at you with hooded eyes, and you wonder how did you manage to get through a single day without this man by your side.

“Will, I have a meeting with Crawford in two hours,” you protest, but your tone is unserious. He knows you don’t really care whether you should show up or not.

“You do?” Will raises an eyebrow, his hair in disorder, his breaths shallow and fast. It’s almost as if he’s been pulled back into reality, a reality in which other people and responsibilities unfortunately do exist. “Do you really have to leave so soon?” His tone is hopeful, a touch of vulnerability in his eyes—maybe even desperation.

You really want to say “no” and stay right where you are, straddling his hips—preferably with fewer clothes on. But the mystery of your sister’s murder still occupies the back of your mind—the deepest and darkest cranny of it. It’ll eat you alive if you don’t find out what exactly transpired.

“I hoped you’d come with me,” you propose, leaning down to kiss his forehead in consolation. That’s all you can offer him, and you hope it’s enough.

“I thought we’d spend the day together,” he confesses. The raspiness of his voice makes you inhale sharply. “I just… I don’t want you to leave.”

Will looks at you— really looks at you—and takes your hand in his, fingers entwining with yours. You can feel how tight his grip is, feel how important this is to him. It’s a sentiment you share—you missed him too, and you don’t know how many times you’ll be able to do this again. What if you were the Chesapeake Ripper’s next victim—his main course?

“And we will. I just need to talk to Jack, and then I’m all yours. I promise,” you extend your pinky toward him, raising your brow in challenge.

Will looks at your pinky, then back at you, before he extends his own in return. They curl together, and his face turns somber. He’s aware that if he looses sight of you today even for a second, he’ll panic. He absolutely dreads it.

“I’m holding you to that promise,” he says, his voice suddenly serious. But he doesn’t let go of your pinky, it’s almost as if he doesn’t want to risk letting you escape again. The grimace he sends you is a poor excuse of a smile.

“Are you ready?” he asks after a minute of silence.

Your eyes never stray from his face as your eyebrows scrunch in pretend-confusion. You look down at your pajama-clad body and your position straddling Will. “Uhh, can’t say that I am.”

“It’s not what I meant.”

You know it’s not, and that your attempt at diverting his attention elsewhere wouldn’t work. He’s the last person that could ever fall for it. You might know Will more than he even knows himself, but it doesn’t mean this goes only one way.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You shake your head and pull away from him, goosebumps rising over your arms the second you get up from the bed. You want to—you just can’t.

The blanket that was previously draped over your shoulders disappeared somewhere when you were busy kissing Will and despite the burning fireplace, the chill of the room still makes you shiver. You cross your arms over your chest, shuddering.

Will doesn’t push, he never did and he never will. The moment your feet clad in fluffy socks hit the floor, he’s reaching out to take your hand in his. He knows exactly what you need and even though he didn’t take your bait, he pretends he did.

“You always look beautiful,” he says softly, raising your hand to his face, so he can kiss your knuckles. “But I guess clothes that aren’t a pajama would be a little bit more appropriate for a meeting with Jack.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a grateful smile—your voice almost a whimper. He understands you. He knows you.

“I already let the dogs out,” you inform him when his gaze strays toward his furry friends asleep by the burning fireplace. “Should I make breakfast?”

The man nods and watches as you cross the room toward the kitchen. He just can’t help but notice your figure—your curves, the way your body moves, the way your hair flows with every step you take. You must be conscious of his staring—you’ve always been aware of your surroundings, he taught you the importance of it—and yet you don’t react. You don’t ask him to stop, either.

“I can only offer you grilled cheese and eggs,” you say, pulling your hair up into a loose bun on top of your head. “We should probably stop by a grocery store on our way back.”

“Grilled cheese and eggs will do fine...” Will’s mouth quirks up into a smile.

He reaches for his clothes, that lay draped over one of the armchairs. Eyes glued to the muscles of his back as he pulls the shirt over his head, you retreat into the kitchen after a second of hesitation. Will joins you soon after.

You offer him a bowl and a fork to whisk the eggs as you look through the cupboards to find a pan or maybe even a toaster if you’re lucky. The man starts to whisk the eggs, a contemplation playing over his face as he watches you rummage through the cabinets.

It’s only now, in the morning light, that Will notices the difference in your behavior from when he saw you last. You are more confident, your movements more fluid and graceful. Your hair shines with silk, and your skin glistens with health. He is reminded again that you’re no longer the curious-eyed girl he met at work—you’re a woman now, aware of your knowledge, charm and the cruelty of the world. That light inside you might be gone, but there’s a new one taking its place—one he doesn’t recognize yet.

“Can I ask you a question?” Will peers at you, his fingers on the handle of the pan as he heats it up. He looks more serious now, and that makes you wonder what’s on his mind.

“What was your life like once you left? I mean, I thought I knew, but seeing you now…” his voice trails off as he tries to find the right words. He isn’t good at it. It was far easier when he tried to prepare the questions in his mind at night, when it still felt like a fantasy or a dream.

Reminded of the reason you found yourself back in Wolf Trap, Virginia—your expression turns somber. You blink away the tears gathering in your eyes and turn to face him. The deep breath you take before speaking doesn’t give you the relief you hoped for.

“I didn’t have to watch dead bodies every day anymore. Turns out, this kind of detox does wonders for your health.” You rest your back against the cold counter, shutting the final cupboard after retrieving a few jars of spices from it. “I thought I’d be miserable going into witness protection. I missed you so much. You were all I could think about for the first few years, but then I just shut it all out. The past, I mean. I had to start my life from scratch.”

Will winces at your words—at the idea of you being without him, out of his reach. “Shut it all out?” he echoes softly. “You made me fall in love with you, and then you disappeared without saying anything,” the words pour out of him, and you can hear pain and anger in his tone, but there’s something else too. Something he’s fighting to keep hidden. “I... You never said why you left. But I couldn’t be mad at you. I just wanted you to be safe.”

“I couldn’t, Will. They didn’t let me say my goodbyes. It’s a miracle I even managed to convince Jack to tell you.” You sigh deeply, raising your hand to stroke his cheek, but the pained look in his eyes makes you drop your arm before it makes contact with his skin. “I’m sorry.”

“You could have at least written…” Will looks away, ashamed for even asking. He knew he couldn’t fault you for it, it wasn’t your fault, and yet, here he was, feeling hurt. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if you were safe, if you were even still…” his voice trails off at the end. He wasn’t even sure if you were still alive—if you still loved him, still wanted to be with him. He thought about the worst.

You don’t need him to verbalize it. You understand him without words. “I never stopped loving you, Will. There were men in my life, but they were just... strangers. I didn’t want any of them to stay.”

The idea of you being with someone else makes Will feel queasy, but he tries to dismiss the thought when he sees the love in your gaze. He had something with Alana, or at least he thought he did. She wasn’t a woman of his dreams, but she was the first one that didn’t give up on him for a long time—until she did. Will wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be with her, but she showed interest, and it’s been so long since you disappeared, he just accepted it. Now the thought of touching someone other than you makes him want to wash his hands for hours, as if that would erase what he did.

Will moves a bit closer to you, so close that he can feel your warmth. “I didn’t stop thinking about you either,” he admits. “Every day you were the first thing on my mind. When I woke up, when I went to sleep…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’d lay there, and all I could think was, ‘where are you?’ and ‘why did you leave me?’ It was torture.” Will shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of the painful memories.

You move a little closer, and he raises his hand to rest it gently on your arm. You might as well be the only two people on the entire planet—nothing else matters at this moment but you and him.

“I will never do that again. I promise you that. I will never disappear again.”

Will pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck, breathing you in. He doesn’t want to think about this anymore. He shouldn’t have to because you’re back, and you promised him you’ll never leave him again.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

He doesn’t want to be without you, doesn’t want to feel the void in his heart again. Even though he knows you could never hurt him willingly, he doesn’t want to go back to that empty place, doesn’t ever want to doubt it again.

You’d stay like that forever if you could, but the smell of burning eggs makes Will move away swiftly. He takes the pan off the heat and stirs them.

“Looks edible to me,” you mumble, looking over his shoulder. You’re still moved by his confession—by his desperate embrace.

Will doesn’t respond, instead focusing on ensuring the eggs are indeed edible. When they are finished, he grabs two plates from the cupboard over your head, then serves them.

You catch a glimpse of a smile—the tiniest glimpse—and you know he wants to be happy, wants to find peace and happiness in the present—but it’s clear the past has cast a shadow over him. Your presence has improved his mood considerably, and yet you’re aware of that shadow every time he looks away from you. When he leaves the kitchen, you almost let out a whimper. You feel guilty that you weren’t there when he needed you.

The room is quiet when you join him at the table, a plate with a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches on it. You sit across from Will and send him a reassuring grimace—it was intended to be a smile—placing the food in the middle of the table.

“You’re far happier than I expected you to be after what happened,” Will admits, shuffling the eggs around his plate mindlessly. He regrets the words the second they leave his mouth.

But it’s too late to take them back as you look at him with wide eyes, fork dropping onto the wooden table with a clatter. He looks down at his food, suddenly feeling the weight of his actions—how the air turns heavy around the two of you.

“I didn’t mean to...” Will shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he just tried to insinuate. His mind is a mess, and he can’t find the right way to change the topic.

You cut him off with a deep sigh, resting your elbows on the table as you look anywhere but at him. “I shut it off. I don’t want to remember it for now. If I want to survive this, I had to shut it off. If I think of her for even a second too long, I’ll break down. I can’t do that.”

It pains Will that you don’t allow yourself to even say your sister’s name out loud after what happened. He nods, his eyes on you. It’s hard for him to process the idea that you can just... push away those feelings, like they don’t even exist. After all, he’s the opposite, he can’t stop himself from feeling. You’ve always told him that the reason you two are so different is because you shut yourself off while he feels everything.

Will understands your decision, though—not wanting to deal with the pain, not wanting to face it, not yet.

“You can talk to me about it if you want, you know,” the man offers gently.

“I know,” you acknowledge him, finishing the conversation. You lift your fork back and eat your breakfast, acting like nothing ever happened. It’s reassuring for some reason.

Will watches you eat, his eyes wandering over you, admiring the shape of your lips as you speak, the soft lines of your eyelashes. He’s happy to see you eat, happy to see that your body is no longer tense and stiff—a reaction to what he said. You seem to be slowly relaxing back into your natural movement.

You look up at him, and a small smile crosses your lips—almost like you’re reading his thoughts. Before he can protest—he should be paying attention to his food—you catch his gaze and ask him, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Will doesn’t deny it, but he takes time to answer you. “Just admiring you,” he says softly. “You seem different… Like yourself.” You’re still incredibly beautiful in his eyes. But you’re so relaxed, your body language more open than ever. You are different—maybe even better than before.

Squinting your eyes at the words, you call him out on his bullshit, but your tone is unserious. “You’re saying it, but those are not your thoughts. I was far quieter back then. I can’t imagine that my loud mouth is something familiar to you.”

Will grins, but he knows there’s still a lot of truth in what he said.

“No…” he says, shaking his head with a small laugh. “I’m happy you’re finally speaking your mind. Back then, you didn’t speak enough. Now I feel like I’ll need to remind you that silence can be comfortable, too.”

You observe him quietly, surprised he doesn’t relate to his description of the new you . This is probably the most open he’s been since the day you’ve met. You’re glad. You’ve lost almost ten years—now, it’s time to catch up, to piece everything together.

“But now… I’m not sure if I can handle your mouth. I feel like I’m going to get a migraine if I keep listening,” he changes the tone of the conversation, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Will!” You feign feeling hurt, clutching at your heart and blinking fast.

Will rolls his eyes, and that little smile of his returns. His gaze drifts over your fingers, your arms. And he’s so tempted to reach out and touch them, feel the softness of your skin. Or grab your arms and pull you closer.

You finish the breakfast in a playful mood, not touching any topics concerning your past after the mention of your sister. Will can’t help but marvel at your transformation. As he watched you eat, laugh, chat and make quips like you’re not afraid of being yourself, he can’t help but think that maybe your disappearance was the best thing that could have happened to you.

He wants to enjoy you as you are now, as you always were, and he looks down at his plate, his thoughts wandering back to everything you said. Will is still curious, he wants to know everything there is to know about the years you were away from each other, but he leaves you be for now.

Once you’re done, Will offers to wash up the plates and lets you get ready. You agree after a little playful resistance.

When you find him again, you’re wearing beige linen dress pants, white lace button-up and your favorite coat—business casual at its best. Will takes comfort in the fact that at least your style didn’t change much.

The outfit looks fantastic on you. You always knew how to dress to emphasize your curves, the smooth, elegant lines of your figure. The white button-down hugs your body, emphasizing your breasts and waist, and the long line of the coat highlights the length of your legs. It’s feminine, a bit provocative, and yet there’s a sense of modesty in your outfit—you’re not trying to prove anything to anyone. In a way, you’re just being your normal self. The real you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says softly, his eyes fixed on you.

You acknowledge the compliment by walking up to him and standing on your tip toes to kiss the slope of his nose.

Will smiles, and gently cups your face. Your lips are so close. Your skin is soft, your smell still drives him crazy, and you are so, so beautiful.

You feel his fingers gently caress your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, and then your arms… and as you move in closer, he moves with you, his fingers wrapping around your back. Your bodies are pressed so close together. He can feel the warmth of your skin. He looks at you—at the smooth skin of your neck, at the soft shape of your lips, and then—his mouth is on yours.

You will be late—you know that, yet you can’t bring yourself to keep all the affections at bay. And this is another reason why Will has always been in love with you. You’re not afraid to chase what you want, to seize something even though you know you shouldn’t. He loves that about you, and he loves kissing you. Your lips are so soft, and the sound of your shallow breaths sends a rush of excitement through his body.

The doorbell rings.

And Will just about loses it. You smile to yourself, enjoying this game you’re playing. You feel how much he wants you right now, how much he wants to lose himself in you, and you can’t blame him.

The bell rings again, louder now.

#eat your heart out #hannibal #hannibal tv #hannigram x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham

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honeygrahambitch · 1 year

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You know what physically hurts me the most? When Bedelia asks about Hannibal's past and he says "Nothing happened to me. I happened." And i just wanna bawl my eyes out cause this is exactly what he needs: to bawl his eyes out. But he had repressed everything so much that he can't even see himself as a victim. Nothing happened to me- my dude your parents were killed in front of you when you were 8 and then you were fed your own sister, im pretty sure something happened to you.

And by saying I happened he puts the emphasis on himself. He has learnt to cope with his trauma by telling himself "I was born wrong anyway so i would have ended up like this no matter how my childhood would have turned out. I happened. My whole family dying and eating my sister are not the reason im a monster. I am the sole reason for that"

And this hurts me so much that i could throw up cause he deserves so much more. And this is why i love the idea of him finally opening up about it to Will who is asking the right questions (unlike Bedelia who asked how did his sister taste like), Will is the first one to make him realize that what had happened has a huge weight and it finally starts to sink in for Hannibal. And the clarity he gets from his discussions with Will is overwhelming cause everything comes back to surface all at once: nightmares, flashbacks, zoning out.

And Will is keeping an eye on him all the time. He is there for every nightmare, for every flashback Hannibal wants to share. He is also there for all the times when Hannibal wants to sit in silence and rest his head on Will's lap.

#i promise im working on this fic #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction #mads mikkelsen

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slxshrfvcker · 1 year

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slashers with a s/o who listens to metalcore

Featured above the cut:

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Featured below the cut:

Patrick Bateman

Michael Myers

Hannibal Lecter

Will Graham

Welcome To Horrorwood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Billy Loomis

Billy would be more amped up about the fact you listen to the metal genre, because he definitely enjoys it too.

If he comes home to you in your room dancing around and head banging to Slipknot or Korn or whatever your taste is, you bet your ass he’s gonna join in with you and rock out to your favorite songs too!

Loves to watch you attempt to sing the lyrics to songs like Custer by Slipknot or Freak On A Leash by Korn.

The song you both vibe together the most with is definitely Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit.

Extra points if you can play the electric guitar/bass, drums or some other instrument incorporated in the metal band genre.

Would be kinda freaked out at first by your fry vocals (if you could do them) but learns to appreciate them because he’s never seen anyone do it in person (poor babes is probably the only metalhead in Woodsboro…)

Definitely agrees to going to a concert (either locally or out of town) with you to see you vibe and enjoy yourself at your favorite band’s shows (he obviously will enjoy himself too!)

Will beat the shit out of whoever elbows you or something at a show

Then kills them after

Also kills anyone for bashing your music tastes

Stu Macher

Shocked at the fact you like such heavy stuff but kinda not at the same time because hello? He’s best friends with Billy for fucks sake.

Smiles and watching you from the side lines as you head bang and dance around to your music. (He might join in with you, with enough convincing)

He’s probably gonna agree to go with you to your fav band’s shows but he insists he has to hear ear protective things because he doesn’t want to get “a headache”. (You both forget anyways)

He will sit back and watch in adoration and amazement if you can play an instrument, the fry screams though will definitely freak him out (he’ll pretend that they don’t though)

Supportive of your music tastes anyways, he loves you for you and not just your music likes.

Kills anyone who hurts your feelings for liking the band/s you like. And also if you get hurt at a show he’s already planning to kill them afterwards.

Patrick Bateman

Honestly annoyed with the fact you like such violent heavy shit and would not hesitate to ask you to turn it down/off if he isn’t in the mood to deal with it

What the hell are you doing—? Why are you throwing your head back and forth like that? Are you brain damaged or something???

“Darling can you stop singing that god awful song I’m trying to focus here,”

Probably breaks your music player a few times bc he’s beyond annoyed with the songs blasting (he eventually will buy a new one)

Refuses to go to any shows with you because as I said before he dislikes it a lot

But if you come home hurt emotionally and or physically he will kill those who caused your pain.

Michael Myers

What is this?

It’s so loud and heavy but he kinda likes it?

Will probably just stand back and watch you vibe for a while before turning around and going to go do god knows what

If he comes home late at night and you are still rocking out he’ll simply turn it off and stare at you as if saying “it’s late go to bed”

He honestly doesn’t care if you come home all bruised from getting kicked or something at your show, he would give an amused look because you put yourself in that position to get hurt, but if you are truly upset or hurt pretty badly (bleeding or broken bones bad) he will begrudgingly go out and kill that person after tending to your wounds.

He honestly doesn’t even care what music you like as long as it doesn’t affect him physically/mentally

Hannibal Lecter & Will Graham

Their darling y/n liking such loud music?

Very odd to them because you look so cute and innocent, even with the way you dress (if you like all of the black and band tees)

They love to watch you vibe dance and headbang to your music because you look so damn cute doing it!!!

Takes you to every metal show you ever want to see, just so you are happy <33

If you get hurt by any means from anyone, then expect to have a very delicious meal the next day prepared by yours truly

They both pitch in to buy you albums, music players and instruments for you to enjoy your music more!

Very supportive of you no matter what, they love you! You are their darling y/n and you mean so much to them.

#billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #patrick bateman x reader #michael myers x reader #hannibal x reader #will graham x reader #poly Hannigram #slasher imagine #slashers #x reader #scream #hannibal nbc #american psycho #halloween

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craqueluring · 1 year

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i want to talk about randall tier

hannibal draws a lot of inspiration from manhunter (1986), which was the first film adaptation of the hannibal books, and i want to talk specifically about the scene where randall crashes through will's window, because it derives from a scene in manhunter. i am going to compare these two scenes, and use this to further my discussion of hannibal, which will be the focus of this. (there is a TLDR at the end of this!)

in manhunter, at the end of the movie, will runs and crashes through dolarhyde's window, shattering it and directly jumping into a fight with him. now, there is a copious amount of imagery in manhunter depicting will talking to his reflection in glass, windows, etc as if his reflection is dolarhyde. we get the sense that dolarhyde is inside of will’s head, and they start to blur as will has to relate and empathize more and more with dolarhyde to catch him.

will crashing through the window is him meeting the darkest parts of himself face-to-face – now, he and dolarhyde are on the same side of the glass. will kills dolarhyde, which represents will overcoming (or, at least, suppressing) his violent urges and the turmoil that comes with understanding killers so deeply.

so, will crashing through the glass to meet dolarhyde is him meeting the ‘bad’ part of himself, the part that understands killers and lets them inside of his head, and by killing dolarhyde, he defeats this darker part of himself. will graham, in typical 80s fashion, ends the movie stable in his morality and can return to his heterosexual family life and watch the sunset with his wife and child.

the scene in hannibal is a bit different. instead of the identity parallel being between will and dolarhyde, it is between will and randall tier. randall is (if i am not mistaken) the first patient of hannibal’s we meet that has undergone his “therapy” and is considered a success. this is when we fully start to grasp what it is that hannibal does with his “therapy.” and what will could Become if he accepted hannibal's guidance.

instead of solely will’s violent urges, like dolarhyde represented in manhunter, randall tier represents, in a way, what will could be: a 'balanced' person who embraces his violence and becomes one with it. randall tier has the same violent urges and the dissonance in his identity that will has, but he accepts it, embraces it, and revels in what he is.

so, when randall crashing through will’s window, will not only comes face to face with himself, but the Higher Self that hannibal is guiding him to Become. this is why randall is depicted as the raven stag, and then the stag man: will is forced to come face to face with who hannibal is guiding him to be, hannibal's influence, and has to confront how to handle his violent urges once again by being forced to kill in self defense. however, his fight with randall does not represent him overcoming these violent urges, as was in manhunter. the fight does actually facilitate will’s Becoming. will throws his shotgun away and chooses to use his hands to kill randall, as hannibal suggested. through Will’s fight with and murder of randall tier, he actually becomes closer to his Higher Self and his Becoming.

this is furthered by will's choice to make randall tier into a tableau. will’s first tableau. in will’s pendulum conversation with randall, it is made even clearer: will says “you forced me to kill you” and randall replies “i didn’t force you to enjoy it.” !!!!!

TLDR: in manhunter, will crashes through the window to meet a man who represents the darkest parts of himself. by killing dolarhyde, will defeats this dark part of himself and fortifies his sense of morality. hannibal flips this completely around. in hannibal, randall crashes through will’s window. will comes face to face with him, who, in a sense, represents his Higher Self and who will could be if he accepted hannibal's guidance. his fight with randall marks the start of him beginning to embrace this intimate violence hannibal has been talking about. by killing and displaying randall in a tableau, will revels in his violent urges by killing him with his hands and enjoying it and becomes closer to his Higher Self and his Becoming. instead of will overcoming his violent urges through this fight between a him and a representation of his violence like in manhunter, will killing randall fuels these urges.

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supervisionx · 1 month

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I keep seeing posts that Hannibal is queerbait (not necessarily on Tumblr but it's really prevalent on Twitter and tiktok) so I'm going to break down how it is NOT queerbait under 'keep reading' (long ass rant ahead)

I'm going to use Supernatural and Sherlock as an example because they are both pretty infamous for queerbaiting, but this isn't to make fun of those shows altogether.

In both Supernatural and Sherlock, the main 'ships' are between Sherlock Holmes / John Watson and Castiel / Dean Winchester. In their respective shows, there is almost nothing stopping them from getting together. In both cases, they are friends, have good chemistry, spend a frequent amount of time together, and do not have any significant others. The only thing stopping them from being in a relationship is that one or both of them are presumably straight or are simply not in love with each other.

In Hannibal, however, one is an FBI agent, and the other is a serial killer. There is an in-show reason that would stop (especially Will Graham) from wanting to be in a relationship with the other despite personal feelings. Even in earlier seasons, when Will Graham did not know Hannibal was a serial killer, Hannibal was still his therapist.

Next, what makes the queerbait stand out especially in Sherlock and Supernatural, is that every time anything is suggested between the two popular ships, it is often played off as a joke.

Think of the scene in Sherlock where John fumbles asking Sherlock if he has a boyfriend. The scene where Sherlock is about to kiss Moriarty is presented as a flashback by a crazy fan (making fun of the viewer for thinking Sherlock could be in a male/male relationship)

In Supernatural, there is a scene where castiel is alluded to being teleported naked on top of Dean's car, dialog such as "Get out of my ass" "I was never in your..." and an awkward pause. These are all one-off jokes, scenes, etc. Meant to allude to queerness without having to actually commit to it.

In Hannibal, however, no scene that alludes to queerness is played as a joke. Hannibal is genuine when he says he cares for Will, when he is worried the other man has died, the constant touches, and where he compares their relationship to Achilles and Patroclus. (Do I even have to mention the "Is Hannibal... In love with me?" Scene?)

"But Hannibal and Will never kissed / never had a relationship!"

Okay, it's fair to be upset that the pair never kissed or had a full relationship established, but you have to remember Hannibal was canceled. Sherlock and Supernatural both came to their conclusions naturally and decided to continue never establishing a proper relationship between their queerbaited characters.

(I'm not counting that scene where castiel says "I love you" to Dean and gets sent to Super Hell as a relationship. You could argue that this makes Castiel explicitly queer and therefore not queerbait, but it still feels more like executives doing the same thing as the joke part of this argument; not wanting to commit to making him queer and throwing in a one-off line. Plus, this does not excuse baiting Dean as queer and baiting the relationship between Dean and Castiel as more than friendship)

However, Hannibal never got to reach its natural conclusion. More seasons were planned, in which the creator of the show explicitly stated he wanted to explore the relationship between Hannibal and Will more in those seasons before being canceled. Being upset that they never kissed / had a relationship does NOT mean the show was queerbait.

#hannibal #supernatural #bbc sherlock #queerbaiting #hannibal fandom #hannibal lecter #nbc hannibal #will graham #long reads #long post

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the-crooked-library · 4 months

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Hannibal and Control

Alright so out of all the Hannibal interpretations out there, I don't think there are any that irritate me more than the idea of an unequal balance between him and Will. There's this opinion floating around - that he is so much of a control freak that he can never let Will make his own decisions; I've seen it in fic, in Tiktok videos, an occasional textpost, and it is just so grossly incorrect that I have to say something on the subject.

As early as season 2, we get this:

This is perhaps one of the most famous scenes in the series - in which Hannibal states, out loud, canonically, that the reason he is so fascinated by Will is because, unlike most other people, he can never truly predict him. No matter how much he may "whisper through the chrysalis," Will Graham will find a way to surprise him; he expressly doesn't follow the lines Hannibal has written for him, and that is a key element of their relationship throughout the show.

Now, I am not denying that control is a prominent element of Hannibal's life - it is indubitably important; but it is not everything - especially in this particular context. As much as he maintains that iron grip on himself, it does not reach nearly the same extent with Will; and it falls apart entirely by season 3, in which Hannibal explicitly gives up his control of the story, risking his life and freedom - both things he valued above all else earlier in Mizumono.

The message here is clear; as much as his control, his liberty, his own continued existence matter, Will Graham is infinitely more precious to him; and to suggest otherwise - that he would attempt to fully subjugate the man he views as his only equal, as the only deity he recognizes - frankly, he'd call it blasphemy.

Moreover, this interpretation of their relationship stems not only from a mischaracterization of Hannibal himself, but also from a rampant infantilization of Will. There is a tendency in some areas of the fandom to entirely absolve Will Graham of his guilt; and, with the culpability handed over to Hannibal in its entirety, he assumes the role of an innocent, redeemable, good person in the eyes of such viewers - which could not be further from the truth. Will Graham's agency is integral to the story; though he wrestles with some moral dilemmas throughout the series, he is ultimately responsible for his own choices, especially post-season 1. There is a clear distinction between circumstance and desire - for instance, Randall Tier did invade his home, which did force him into violence; however, it did not force him to throw aside his gun, or relish the brutality, or bring the body to Hannibal, or eat of it, or display parts of it, or store the rest in his freezer.

He did all that himself.

He knows that.

Will Graham's infantilization (no, he was manipulated, he was tricked, Hannibal tempted him into something he didn't want, he didn't want to be a murderer, he is a sweet darling boy) is rooted not only in homophobia, but also in the same sort of ableism real-world autistic adults face every day. His own desires and agency get overwritten by that ever-present bigotry; the same way that some people believe that autistics cannot give consent to sexual activity, or participate in nuanced discussions, or understand the harm or violence they do, the other characters assume that he is fundamentally an innocent right until the very end. Jack, Alana, Molly, even Chilton make that mistake; and Will does play on their ignorance within the world of the story - but it is truly discouraging to see the success of his act extend to the viewers, who should have the necessary context to understand it for the lie it is.

He has agency, and it is paramount to the themes of a series that explores queer desire, internalized homophobia, and the guilt that often surrounds this sort of experience.

As such, the story, from Hannibal's perspective, is about learning to let go of his otherwise unwavering control; it's about finding a common ground with someone that understands him, and allowing himself the final trust fall. From Will's perspective, it is a coming out story, with everything that entails - which also culminates in him taking a leap of faith into the arms of the man he loves. The reason why Hannigram is so enduring as a ship is because it is founded on that balance; to deny this equality, therefore, is to fundamentally undermine the theme of these characters' narrative, and twist them into caricatures of themselves.

In short, it does them a disservice.

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #if you think that will is somehow innocent in their dynamic. you should watch seasons 2 and 3 again. then go back and rewatch season 1 #that man has been a freak from the beginning #hannibal nbc

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cherryskyies · 2 years

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What your favorite slasher says about you

includes: rz michael myers, thomas hewitt. hannibal lecter

coming next: og michael myers, bo & vincent sinclair, jason voorhees, the grabber

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3 || pt.2

RZ Michael Myers

Not to start off on a sexual note, but you’re heavy into size difference — both the security it brings and the idea of it being so easy for him to pick you up and manhandle you is like, the best thing ever for you guys.

I think a good amount of you rz michael myer fans are plus size, mainly because I myself am so I see the appeal of a man that is strong enough to lift you with ease, when the average man might have a struggle — even if they don’t, it’s hard to let go of the insecurity and fear that they will, whereas michael has flipped a damn car so no worries there.

You like the dominance, the fact that he could kill you with one hand, but he doesn’t. It makes you feel protected, even though he’s the one you should be protected from.

It’s giving knife play and a choking kink. You’re into the idea of being marked by another, permanent scars left behind as a reminder of them and a hand large enough it covers your entire throat, other hand holding your wrists above your head.

You prefer forced submission.

Something about being stalked everywhere you go is appealing

Probs an air or fire sign

Thomas Hewitt

Again with the size difference — you guys go crazy for a man that can throw you around like a sack of potatoes.

Family is important to you, someone who goes to any length to protect and provide is something you never really had, so you find comfort in those who give what you wish you had.

I’m feeling like there is a breeding kink going on here, the idea of someone loving you so tenderly and selflessly sends you into overdrive — maybe you’re insecure yourself with your own looks, so having someone like Tommy makes you feel better — not because he is ugly by any means, but because he himself knows what it is like to think lesser of yourself for not being able to conform to society's norms of what is desirable.

I feel like your morals clash with the average person. You wouldn’t be too against cannibalism; perhaps you wouldn’t mind trying it if it was consensual or maybe you would try it as a means of survival, much like the Hewitts. Either way, I don’t sense a lot of distaste on the subject of cannibals.

Probs a water sign

Hannibal Lecter

You enjoy the finer things in life, maybe you’re an artist or musician of sorts – might be a slight alcoholic with a preference of wine or champagne.

Similar to Thomas Hewitt fans, you are not against cannibalism, you see it no differently than killing an animal for its meat, just less accepted by society. You’d probably help Hannibal with the designs he does on the dead bodies he doesn’t eat.

Domestic life doesn’t seem like a bad thing to you. Having a loving husband who will stop at no means to keep you safe, Sunday dinners you share with friends and coworkers, the occasional ball or fancy dinner — it’s a dream, really.

Kids are hit or miss with you. Maybe you’d rather be the frequent babysitter or adopt, but you almost prefer your life to be child free so you can do your own thing with no other responsibility – maybe you were the child that “ruined” your parent’s love and do not wish the same thing for yourself, because much like you, a child does not deserve such a burden.

When someone asks you “What is a trait you’d like in a partner?” possessive is a word you use often. You yearn to feel sought after, desired. You want to be worth something to someone, to be held close and whispered sweet nothings to.

Last thing, but I feel like promises have often fallen through; people promise this or that and never go through with it, so you have some major trust issues on top of the obvious daddy issues and love for dilfs.

Probs an earth sign

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darkfire359 · 6 months

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What could have been: sympathizing with Ed in season 2

I've talked before about how much I love Ed and all his complexity. I've written more fanfic about him and Izzy than any other characters, in my entire history of fandom. And unlike many people, I wasn't unprepared for the dark direction his arc took in season 2; I wanted him to commit MORE atrocities, and I happily made comparisons between him and another one of my favorite characters, Hannibal Lector.

But one of the key things I wanted after he committed atrocities was for him to feel bad about it. And I thought we'd see that! After all, S1 Ed was so tormented about killing his dad (who was abusive and violent towards) him that he never killed (directly) again! He was so broken up about trying to kill Stede in s1e6 that he ended up crying in a bathtub. Just like he cried in the window sill after committing all the kraken horrors in s1e10. It seemed like this was a guy scared of his own inner darkness, convinced he was a monster, who would go around saying things like "I'm not a good person" and "You were always going to realize who I am."

And so even when s2 went darker than anyone expected—when he cut off more of Izzy's toes, and shot him in the leg, and made crewmen fight to the death for experiencing love, and sailed the entire ship into a storm to murder-suicide his crew—I was still ready to accept all that moral ambiguity and give him a hug afterwards. Because of course, I figured that after Ed was brought out of that dark place and those suicidal urges, he would feel horrible remorse. How could he not?

I was looking forward to seeing him break down crying, convinced he was an irredeemable, unforgivable monster. (Which of course, would make it all the more touching when people inevitably did forgive him, and when he did redeem himself). Maybe Ed would even go too far with trying to atone, like in Mercy, one of my favorite post-s1 fics. Probably, I figured, Ed's quest for redemption would be one of the main themes in the second half of season 2.

So it was strange to watch e4, when Ed looked nothing but annoyed at everyone for chaining him up and banishing him, and then he went to hang out with his old friends like he'd done nothing wrong. When after the crew unanimously voted him out, Stede brought him back to the ship literally that same evening, and Ed saw no problem with that. Okay... maybe he's still processing?

Then e5 came, and that episode was about Ed's redemption. Yay! Except... Ed didn't seem to care? Other people made him wear the bag and the bell. He asked how long it'd take people to get over it, guessing "like a day." He gave an influencer-esque non-apology to the crew. He said "I took a man's leg" rather than calling Izzy by name. He literally doesn't remember the circumstances of pushing Lucius off the boat. He does ultimately give a real apology to Fang—for tormenting him years ago, rather than anything from his actual kraken era. I love e5 for the Izzy+Stede dynamic, but watching Ed be an unrepentant asshole here is painful. There is nothing about this that convinces me Ed wouldn't slide right back to being evil if Stede were to leave again.

And the thing is, it didn't have to be like this! We could have gotten Ed breaking down crying with guilt like in s1e6, and it would have made him much more sympathetic—not to mention the fact that Ed really is just an adorable cryer. Alternatively, we could have had some real deep diving about why Ed never apologizes (is he afraid of seeming weak?) or why he's so uncaring about others' pain (has he seen too many friends die over the years, to the point of going numb?)

By episode 6, it seems like most characters have moved on. Stede says something about Ed turning poison into positivity, which feels completely unearned. He pays for the party—but he'd previously tried to make the crew throw their cut of the loot into the ocean. He makes some attempts to best Ned and protect Stede, but Stede ends up saving the crew instead—from a pirate who only showed up in the first place because Ed was intentionally trying to piss him off. Ed is sad that Stede kills someone, and this would be a great time to again make Ed sympathetic! To have him talk about how he doesn't want that for Stede, because his own violence has weighed on him so deeply. But nope.

E6 does see Ed actually apologize to Izzy—and he's terrible at it. He's just like, "Sorry about your leg," makes no eye contact, and flees immediately afterwards. We do see some hints that this shitty apology isn't really indicative of Ed's true feelings, given how he has those flashbacks to the scenes of hurting Izzy seemingly haunting him; but it's very brief. It would be a great time to address Ed's horrific tendency towards conflict-aversion and avoiding awkward conversations in relationships—the same tendency that made s1 Ed never inform Izzy that the plan to kill Stede and the Revenge crew had changed. This would be another great opportunity to help us sympathize with Ed again—to have us see how it's not that he doesn't want to communicate these things, it's that these conversations are terribly stressful and anxiety-inducing for him. But nah, why would OFMD need to include those things for Ed?

E7 happens, and still nothing. If anything, there was a great opportunity for Ed to at least show himself to be a kind person to Stede—maybe nobly stepping in to save the day, even though he's annoyed that Stede's getting all this attention now. You know, like Stede did for him back in s1e5, when the situation was reversed. But nope, Ed runs off to be a fisherman, not having learned any of the earlier season's lessons about whims. He only stops being a fisherman because he's bad at it.

I was still hoping for something big in e8–some huge selfless, gesture that Ed would do to cover for all of his inability to do the little gestures. Ed is good at grand gestures! Swimming back to the ship after he left, then taking the Act of Grace in s1 was HUGE. Very selfless, very sweet! He could have done something like that for Izzy, Lucius, and the traumatized crew. Some kind of heroic gesture to help others more than himself. But nope. In some sense, Izzy dying is one of the greatest indications of Ed's wasted potential, because we narratively had a great opportunity for Ed to be able to save someone... but he didn't.

(Admittedly, Ed is not a complete dick here—he helps Izzy when he's limping, he says some genuinely apologetic stuff when Izzy's dying, and he finally gives Izzy his attention and care. But then after the funeral, he's still like "Well, that's that.")

It's so frustrating. It's not that I don't want to like Ed, or that I don't want to sympathize with him. I really, REALLY do! I don't even need Ed to successfully do anything to earn forgiveness! I'd take Ed trying and failing. I'd take him wanting to try, but being so convinced of his monstrousness that he never makes the attempt. But give me something. Anything other than the unexamined apathy that he has so much of the time.

The thing is, s2 lost the ability for Ed's mistreatment of people to be just another "of course he's violent, he's a pirate" quirk. They were pretty explicit about how abusive Ed was (Jim's comment in e1, the joke in e4 people assumed Ed had hit Stede) and how much he traumatized people (Lucius and the whole crew very clearly have PTSD in episodes 4 and 5). This is serious stuff, which he did to other main characters, which is going to make a lot of viewers look at him pretty harshly.

And that's manageable—Hannibal Lector managed to be most textbook-abusive asshole in the world, committing atrocities and generally being unrepentant left and right, and viewers STILL found him lovable and sympathetic. You can do that! But you need to:

a. make it clear that anyone with the relevant information calls them out for being awful, even multiple episodes later

b. make it clear that they care deeply and genuinely about their wronged loved ones

c. make them willing to actually make REAL sacrifices

I watched so many people start to dislike or outright hate Ed in season 2. It made me really sad. But I couldn't blame them for feeling that way. For all that Ed is supposedly one of the two protagonists in OFMD—a character whose mistakes should be the most understandable, whose mental state should be the most resonant—the show seemed to entirely drop the ball on writing him as such.

#edward teach #ofmd critical #ofmd season 2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #arguably the writers' mistake with Izzy is easier to fix in fanfiction #just undo the last 10 minutes #but now I feel like Ed fics after s2 have to fix huge chunks of his characterization #I also think it'd be more reasonable to make Ed not give a shit about the crew if the show just like... admitted that directly?#but we've got Stede making comments about Ed turning poison into positivity #we've got Izzy saying the crew loves Ed and is his family #and while it's not OOC for either of them to just be delusional and overprojecting their own love for Ed #it's weirdly unexamined #same thing with Ed's “I don't kill people thing” after he murders British officers left and right in s2e8 #was Ed's whole talk with Stede in s1e6 just a lie?#obviously Ed was stretching definitions / using it as a coping mechanism but I thought he was at least telling the truth as he saw it

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welcometothejianghu · 6 months

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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 君子盟/A League of Nobleman

A League of Nobleman is the unfortunately translated English title of a 2023 historical drama about an idealistic country boy/genius detective/noodle seller, and a wealthy minister on a mission to exonerate his late father from charges of treason, even if he himself has to commit some treason in the process.

I watched this one not too long after it came out, and I was expecting there would be a lot of buzz as soon as fandom got hold of it. There wasn't, but I can understand why. The show is a lovely, ethereal drama that has some genuinely moving moments, stunning visuals, and charming character interactions.

It is, however, kiiiiiiiind of a hot mess.

What follows is an incredibly qualified rec. Unlike most of the previous shows I've recommended, this show is not something you could just throw at your Average American Television Enjoyer. Censorship got its claws into this one, and what's left is ... okay, imagine fliming all of Hannibal just like you want it, and then right before it airs, NBC comes in and says, okay, now we're just going to take out all the parts that are gay and violent and gory! You know what you'd have left? You'd have a League of Nobleman, is what.

(If you want a little more explanation of what's awkward about it, here's a take based on the first ten episodes. Note that not everything that bothers AvenueX bothers me, but they're fair critiques.)

Therefore, I'd have a tough time recommending this to someone who hasn't already built up a tolerance for the experience of seeing a scene end nearly mid-sentence, or hearing described something that happened just offscreen (while seeing no one's lips move). You need to be prepared to look through the jank to see the show we could have had beneath the show that actually arrived.

Even so, I have five reasons I think you should at least give it a shot!

1. That precious baby boy

Look at him. Look at his precious face. Don't you just want to stuff him down the front of your shirt and take him home with you?

That is Zhang Ping. He is the hero and he is a good boy.

He is a darling dumpling who grows up reading novels about how members of the judiciary nobly solve crimes and punish the unjust, so he decides that he wants to move to the big city and become a member of the judiciary to nobly solve crimes and punish the unjust! ...Until he gets there and realizes, no, baby, that was fiction. But gosh darn it, he's going to try anyway.

I have seen people say they read Zhang Ping as autistic. While I'm not sure that's specifically what the show itself was going for, that's kind of the effect -- which, I think, is why I've also seen a lot of people say they don't like Song Weilong's performance. I don't think he's wooden or unemotional; I think he just made a choice to play the character as not always real good about understanding why the people around him are having the emotions they're having. Similarly, I think what makes him read as anachronistic is mostly how he doesn't engage well with the rules of social convention that are such important parts of this historical setting.

Like, you see that picture above, with him and Lan Jue whispering at one another? Zhang Ping is doing this because he is absolutely convinced that this is appropriate subterfuge behavior. Lan Jue is matching him because he thinks Zhang Ping is adorable.

Just the goodest boy. A baby. Please care him.

2. the aesthetic

The show is beautiful. It looks and sounds amazing. For some reason I can't find a clip of just the opening credits, but here's a (strangely bloody) trailer that gives a sense of its general vibe:

As you can see a couple times in there, the show makes great use of tilt-shift photography -- you know, the thing where you change the focal length until everything starts to look fake? It creates a weird, dreamlike effect where parts of the frame are out of focus for no reason, or actual locations start to look like model-train miniatures. Many of the shots are framed like this, giving the entire thing a very pretty, very uncanny look.

And speaking of the dreamlike: If there's one thing I've come to expect from C-dramas, it's bad CGI. That is not the case here! The CG is used so sparingly that it's unobtrusive and actually quite nice. Much more of the weight of the show's look relies on practical effects that are supported and amplified by CG, which is the optimal combo. When it does go all in on CG, it's in the service of dreamscapes that are supposed to look unreal anyway.

The show does admittedly have a mild problem of using a cool effect and then largely forgetting that effect exists. For example, the first episode has a really neat "freeze time and walk through a crime scene" bit! And then we barely ever see that ability again. But the show's doing so many other lovely things that you don't really feel the absence until you stop to think about it all later. So don't stop to think about things! That's my motto! (It really isn't.)

The directors also just have a lovely eye for things -- which is extra-surprising considering that both of them are first-time directors. That can be fun, though, when you get people who haven't gotten stuck in their ways get, so they're still being new and weird with it. ...Of course, I bet that's also some of why so much of the show quite obviously got cut to ribbons, if you're also working with directors who also haven't figured out how to get away with things just yet.

Overall, the production values are very high. This show clearly had a fairly solid amount of funding behind it, but it also used its resources smartly. Most costumes are elegant but not extravagant. Detailed sets are small and beautiful locations are contained. While I have great respect for productions that try to create epics on a shoestring budget, there's something to be said for a project that sets its sights on the achievable, then puts its effort into doing what it can, well.

3. A ship for everyone!

There are so many potential ways to pair up them boys. The show's main pair dynamic is between country mouse Zhang Ping and city mouse Lan Jue, but it surely does not stop there. In fact, I've made a helpful chart that shows you all the potential flavors of gay you can enjoy at this particular danmei buffet:

(And yes, if you've seen the show, you know there's at least one more line that I could've drawn here, but I don't want to spoil anything.)

Now, whether you do read any of these dynamics as sexual/romantic is up to you. The point is that you could. For example, I personally am not that into Lan Jue/Xu Dong, but if you lose your shit when a competent sword guy owes a life debt to the defenseless noble he works for? You could have a lot of fun with what the show gives you.

Obviously, because this is a censored c-drama, there are no canon gay romances. However, a couple of them are more textual than others, especially the ones that center Lan Jue, because everyone clearly wants a piece of that fancy flat ass.

One of AvenueX's comments from the video I linked earlier is that the main couple has less sparkle together than each of them has individually with the man that's supposed to be his bestie. While that changes as the show goes on, these two side pairs never cease to be enjoyable. Whether you read them as sexual or not is up to you! Romantically or platonically, they're still a delight to watch bounce off of one another.

And Lan Jue/Gu Qingzhang (that one terrible ex from the chart) is, uh, basically textual? It's miles into "there is no straight explanation for this" territory. Again, avoiding spoilers here, but trust me. You get to see their secluded love nest and everything. Shit's real gay.

Then, of course, there's the main pair:

This is clearly the one that got hit real hard by cuts to the material. It's a damn shame, because this is clearly meant to be the core of the whole narrative. Despite that, the two of them have a fascinating dynamic that changes over the series from outright suspicion to cautious care to absolute trust. It's a great combo of someone who is too honest for his own good and someone so used to court politics that he lies as easily as breathing.

Ironically, the source material is Not Gay, to the point where the author has basically disowned this series as being so different from her original work as to be unrecognizable. You sort of have to wonder about the creative thought processes that led to taking a gen work and deciding to BL it up for the live-action adatation. I'm not complaining, mind you, but it is a little bit of an unforced error.

So whatever flavor of gay it is you're into, the odds are very good that this drama will have at least enough of it to keep you interested!

4. A very charming cast

I got to gush about Song Weilong's Zhang Ping earlier, but honestly I think everybody's pretty enjoyable, from the main cast to the recurring side characters to the one-off extras who show up for a single episode. Everybody's playing it weird and theatrical, so I get it if that's not your cup of tea. However, I feel all the performances are well-suited to the slightly surreal style of the production.

Here's just a couple of the real gems:

Jing Boran's Lan Jue has the perfect regal bearing of a fussy gentleman, but with a very endearing softness underneath. He spends half his time with eyes brimming with unshed tears, and the other half making heart-eyes at his boyfriends. You understand why everybody in the empire wants to ride him like they stole him, and that's even before he lets his hair down and starts dressing in slutty sheer robes. (I'm not entirely sure either he or the show knew how to play the character in the first few episodes, but he gets way better once he stops being so sinister and mysterious and gets to be cute and/or unhinged.)

There is one female character who shows up in more than one arc, and she is the Empress Dowager, and she is such a wonderful awful bitch. What a monster. Shi Yueling eats up every scene she's in by being the perfect mix of reprehensible and fascinating.

I was already primed to like Wang Duo because I liked watching him be a pretty snake boy in Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity. Well, now he gets to be a pretty metaphorical snake boy here. I'm not spoiling anything by telling you he's bad news. He shows up damn near the end of the show and you know immediately he's bad news. But you don't know what kind of bad news he is, and that's fun to find out.

And speaking of actors I already liked from other places! Guo Cheng has mastered the art of acting with his mouth full. His Chen Chou is a sweet, earnest anchor in a world of tricksy boys.

There is something about Hong Yao's handsome face that makes Wang Yan perpetually look a little red-eyed, like he's trying hard to pretend that he wasn't just crying in his office. It's the perfect soft touch to his incredibly wonderful chad of a character. I'm usually not into the cocky jocks, but I will make such an exception for him.

I love you, fortune-telling gremlin grandpa.

5. Raw materials

Look, I assume if you've made it this far in the rec and you're still hanging on, you're interested for one of two reasons. The more normie reason is that you're into c-dramas in general (and probably period dramas in particular), and gay stuff is a selling point, so you see the appeal of turning on a drama where cute boys have emotions at other cute boys. That is a perfectly good reason to watch this drama, and if this is you, I hope you have fun!

The other reason is that you like making fan stuff, and you need some new blorbos to blorb in new and exciting combinations. Friend, I have that stuff for you right here.

A League of Nobleman has problems -- but they are problems that may be appealing to people who enjoy fixing things. There are literal holes in the series where actual, planned, filmed scenes were deleted! If you're looking for source material that's just begging you to fill in the gaps, look no further.

Of course I'm partial to the number of queer DIY romance options there are (see point 3), but that's not the extent of it. The setting is fascinating: an unspecified premodern Chinese dynasty magical enough to have a Bureau of Incantations, where the emperor is (for once) a cool dude, secluded village people live in semi-communal families, and one of the main characters can play Inception with people's heads. I'll say it plainly: If you are into kinky dream sex, this is the drama for you.

I should note that one of the things that doesn't need fixing is the overall shape of the series. The individual little case incidents seem disconnected, but they all weave together at the end as part of a (let's be real, ridiculously complicated) plot, giving the whole thing a pretty satisfying wrap-up. The show does not just fall off a cliff like Moriarty; it resolves in a way that's more than a little convoluted, but still overall satisfying. Also, a lot of those ships from the chart above, when it's all over, are still together. Some days that's all you need from an ending.

Maybe I sound like a broken record at this point, but to give you a sense of how heavy the hand of censorship clearly was, understand several of these episodes don't even break the 35-minute mark, and only four are even over 40 minutes long, when ~45 minutes is about the episode standard for this genre. (For comparison, every Untamed episode at least 42 minutes long.) I think it's important to realize just how much actual connective tissue got removed, way more than just individual censored shots or single redubbed lines.

And speaking of redubbed lines, the last episode of this show contains possibly the funniest NO HOMO in BL history. You have to see it to believe it -- or, rather, to not believe it, because the first time I watched, I didn't even understand what the hell the show was implying. I'll say no more.

Where to watch it!

I hope I've convinced you to at least give it a try! It's not a perfect show by any means, but it's a show with many good elements, and if you can embrace what's there without getting too hung up on what's not, it's a pretty good time.

If you're up for it, you can find it on this YouTube playlist -- though be prepared that it often mutes the opening music. It's also available on Viki (with ads, but less muting).

Just look at those precious, pinchable cheeks. Adorable.

#a league of nobleman #a league of boyfriends #君子盟 #rec post #i made this

103 notes · View notes

writeshite · 2 years

Note

Male reader x homelander please, with smut and seduces him to become the good superhero, please?

Look Into His Angel Eyes

Summary:

“How about a deal? You play nice, and…and I’ll…” you’re not sure what to offer, but judging by his attachment to you, he craves the attention and touch, “...I’ll let you hold me like this from now on, at every session, starting now.” That seems to do the trick, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his grip loosens, “Good boy.” There’s an air of delight from him when you say that.

Pairings:

Homelander x Male!Reader

Tags:

Seduction To The Good Side 😭 | Empath!Reader | Therapist!Reader

Words: 1962

Author's Note:

I may have channeled some inspiration from ✨Hannibal✨ (not the cannibalism part 😭) god knows why, I don’t know where this started or where it went, but it exists now. Side note: Homelander has a praise kink. I said what I said.

“Please.”

A simple word, yes, but not often uttered on a day-to-day basis, especially by someone like Homelander. Despite the volatility of the supe, Vought kept a high employment rate among other companies; how? Simple, EAPs - Empath Assistance Programme counseling or workplace counseling - how Vought managed to garner enough empaths to deal with hundreds upon hundreds of employees plus supes is anyone’s guess. EAPs counseled ten employees, and one supe, max - Homelander, on the other hand, was a particular case. It didn’t take an empath to know how intense he could be. He didn’t have a regular EAP like the others. Instead, he was tossed between the department in a roster.

Now, it’s at this point, one might wonder, how do you get Homelander to attend a counseling session? You don’t. He comes as he pleases. You’d be lucky to get him to stay the whole hour; even then, you’d be lucky not to be stuck with him for more than an hour. The roster ran through names randomly, once it went through all the names, it would start afresh, shuffling the order, and one day, it chose you. The designated office was further away from the others, more spacious, and with a color scheme meant to invoke calm. You had arrived first and took your time to reread the notes handed to you.

Vought preferred not to diagnose their champion, so most of it was circumstantial at best, but it was helpful. Homelander arrived halfway through the designated one-hour session, rushing in with a sour look on his face; he grumbled to himself, pacing the length of the room as you watched, you paid him half attention until he turned to you, “Can you believe that?!”

You turn to him, “Believe what?” you shift on the couch when he glances down at you.

“Were you not listening to anything I was saying?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were speaking to me specifically,” you respond, shrugging, “you seemed lost in your own world, and I wasn’t sure whether to intervene.” He seems taken aback by your words, offended, even that you didn’t center yourself around him the moment he entered the room. You hold your hands up, “Sorry, why don’t you start over.”

“As I was saying….” he goes off on a tirade about the Seven, Vought, and just about everything else that seemed to strike his ire this past week. “....they’re ungrateful little bastards, all of them, just because I punched a hole through some criminal, I’ve got anger issues.” He emphasizes the last part with quotation marks,

You look to the side and raise your eyebrows, “Well, I’m inclined to agree.”

“Who asked you?!”

“I’m your EAP,” you tell him. “Ok, how about we start simple? You said you the Deep surpassed you as this month’s number one hero; how did that make you feel?”

“Weren’t you paying attention? I’m pissed!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m number one, me!” He says, pointing to himself.

“According to who?” you ask, scribbling down your notes.

“Everyone! That’s why Vought made me, to be number one, not some fish man,” he throws his hands around as he speaks. His eyes take on a tint of red, and you have to clench your fist to ground yourself in the sea of rage. It takes a few tries before you dissipate it, and he becomes visibly calm. He slumps back into his seat and relaxes, “You’re a lot better at this than the others,” he remarks, slightly dazed at the euphoria of overwhelming calm.

“Thanks, I guess,” you respond, slumping back, most of your energy spent. It takes you a few tries before you can stand, and Homelander’s practically dozing off on his seat; when he doesn’t wake after the first few shakes, you leave him there and clock out for the rest of the day.

You don’t expect it to amount to anything else, but then your name gets drawn out again. And again. And again. And again. “It’s just until we get more empaths,” Ashley tells you, “Besides, you’re just so good with him. Out of everyone else in your department, you’re the only one he hasn’t threatened with bodily harm.”

The conversation happened weeks ago, but you reflect on it every now and then. You’re not sure what to think on the ‘you’re so good with him’ part until Homelander slides onto the couch beside you, head on your lap as if it were nothing. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just lies there; your arms hover above his head, uncertain; none of the notes mention this in any capacity. Homelander moves his head back to glance up at you; he takes one of your hands and places it in his hair; he moves your hand until you catch on, and once you do, he hums happily - contact makes the distribution of emotion a lot more powerful, and the calm you often throw at him increases tenfold this way. He curls like a cat; when you graze near his ears, “You are all kinds of strange,” you comment.

But he’s already lost in the bliss, his head swimming as everything else gets drowned out, and like a cat, he’s remiss to let you stand when you must. That’s how Ashley finds you; she runs in, frantic, then her mood shifts when she spots Homelander asleep on your lap. She doesn’t mention it, not to you, but she must have said something to someone; your schedule clears up completely, and it’s all just Homelander. “Think of it as a promotion.” You’re told, and in a way, it is.

You bring it up the week before your paid time off; Homelander goes rigid in your lap, sitting up quickly, “What do you mean time off?”

“You know, contrary to your belief, my existence doesn’t revolve around you,” you say, “I get time off from work too, just like everyone else; it’s only two weeks.”

He doesn’t like that, not in the slightest. His face does the little scrunch up, you lean forward and run your hand through his hair, but he doesn’t melt as usual. He grabs your hand, “You can’t leave,” he states.

“I’m not leaving; I’m going on leave,” you repeat. “I’ll be back in no time, I promise.”

His eyes squint, and you sigh, pursing your lips; judging by the look on his face, you might not be able to leave so easily. Whatever plans you may have, are interrupted when he leans all his weight on you, you fall back against the couch, his arms wind around you, and you find yourself trapped between him and the sofa. A childish move, considering his strength and weight, you won’t be able to leave, “I’d laugh if this weren’t bloody annoying.”

He mumbles something incoherent, “Homelander.” He ignores you, determined to keep you there, “Homelander.” No indication aside from more mumbling, you huff, “John.” He looks up then, visibly smug with himself. “Finding this fun?”

“I’m not letting you go.”

“You’ll have other EAPs around until I get back.”

With some effort, you wriggle your hands from beneath him, taking his face into your hands, “How about a deal? You play nice, and…and I’ll…” you’re not sure what to offer, but judging by his attachment to you, he craves the attention and touch, “...I’ll let you hold me like this from now on, at every session, starting now.” That seems to do the trick, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his grip loosens, “Good boy.” There’s an air of delight from him when you say that; you file that away for later and just celebrate that you’ve managed to convince him.

Playing nice doesn't last very long. The supe throws a tantrum on day three of your leave and sneaks his way into your apartment, at least you assume so, since you wake up with John literally snuggled in your bed. It takes a moment for you to realize the shape beside you is him; he’s got his face smooshed into your chest. His cape lies slung over your desk chair, and his gloves and boots are over by the window he snuck in through. Like the session, he doesn’t let go, and you’re left waiting until he wakes up, “John, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs, “That’s not an answer,” you state, but he does it again. You guess he no doubt threatened the information of your whereabouts from someone. “You could’ve waited until I got back; you’d have been fine. The other EAPs —”

“I don’t want them,” he whines, “I want you.”

“John —”

“Please.” It’s a desperate plead, not just in his voice or his expression, but in his emotion; it surrounds you, clinging to you. When you begrudgingly agree, it’s almost immediately replaced by glee.

Playing host to a supe with zero social skills and what you suspect might be quickly becoming an unhealthy attachment to you is surreal, to say the least. John practically latches close to you; whatever little boundaries you had before practically vanish as he takes to holding you and situating you on his lap when he can. “By the way,” you comment, “I’m proud that you didn’t kill anyone yesterday.”

You’re standing by the kitchen island, stirring your coffee, as John holds you; his gloveless hands under your shirt - it had taken some convincing, but you’d managed to get him out of the tacky garb that is his costume, granted sweatpants, and a shirt wasn’t much to celebrate. Still, it was better than his everyday wear. “You are?”

“Yes, John, I am,” you affirm, and the surprise from him is washed over as satisfaction rolls off him in waves. His habit of killing people that got his nerves has died down significantly; giving him praise seems to do the trick, and he chases after it at every chance. “Such a good hero, aren’t you?” You feel him nod against your skin; you reach behind you and pet his hair; you spend most mornings like this; he basks in the praise you give him.

“Your hero?”

You chuckle, “Yes, my hero.” Adoration is what he exudes a lot now, directed at you, muddled in with desire; it’s grown exponentially, it bleeds through each time he holds you, hands almost wandering further, and once or twice, he slips and pecks your skin. But it’s quick, faint, testing the waters. He’s doing it now; his thumbs rub circles on your lower stomach, and his hand travels further down, then back up when he realizes you’ve noticed. You turn your head, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye. You peck the side of his face, a reward for good behavior, you tell him, and he preens.

There are better places for a sexual encounter; unfortunately, for today, your kitchen will have to do. You push the cup away as John leans into your space; when you kiss him on the mouth, there’s a flood of emotion; absolute joy rains down on you as everything else fuzzes out. His hands hold you as close as he can, as yours card through his hair, you push your own want out, and he shudders when it hits him. “You’ve been such a good boy, haven’t you?” you whisper in his ear, “you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

The uncomfortableness of the kitchen floor doesn't register in your mind; the fuzziness increases as John thrusts into you; you’re senses are blanketed by his near feverish lust. More praise falls from your mouth, and he soaks it up, rutting into you faster; when he comes, he clings even tighter to you, lying against your chest. “Keep up the act, and you might get a lot more rewards.”

End Note:

Am I making it that Vought has mandated therapy? Yes, I mean if you had to work there, you'd probably need one 💀 I may have taken a little of Hannibal's manipulative tendencies and applied them to reader, just a bit. Stay Hydrated

#homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #the boys imagine #homelander has a praise kink I said what I said #therapist reader

863 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 5 months

Text

.⋆｡Lost Souls Part 2｡⋆.

The Lost Princess Chapter 8

Jotun!Loki x plus size reader

With the discovery of who Loki really is, Y/N returns to the avengers determined to forget him, but things are never that simple

Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, enhanced!reader, swearing, age gap, angst, depression, sickness, fluff, smut (finally), loss of virginity, minimal foreplay, some confessions, unprotected sex, bit of praise kink

WC: 3k

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Snow whipped around her violently, slicing into her skin like tiny knives. Huge columns of ice surrounded her, caging her in a frozen maze which she could never hope to escape alone.

Fear clawed up her belly as Y/N snapped her head around, eyes wide, desperately searching for a way out. “This isn't the palace!” She screamed into oblivion but, of course, received no answer back.

There was a light in the distance, just barely shining through the haze of the storm, tempting her towards the unknown. An ache deep in her chest pulled her forwards, guiding her through the frozen forest until she reached a humble cabin tucked between to particularly large columns. It was quite obviously not built with a Frost Giant in mind given its small size. It rather looked like it was made for a human.

A dying candle in the window was the only light emanating from the otherwise dark house. The storm was beginning to grow worse so Y/N picked up her pace until she found herself at the doorstep.

She had only a moment of hesitation before she placed her hand upon the doorknob and let the heavy wood swing outwards, tempting her inside. The wind screamed as she stepped into the cabin, adding to the dread that was slowly building inside her.

The door slammed shut behind her, making Y/N jump. “Jesus Christ.” She muttered to herself, eager to hear something besides the frantic beating of her heart. The candle flickered, the wick almost completely gone now.

There came a groan from the darkness, it was weak and sickly like the sound a dying animal would make in its last moments. A shuddering breath escaped her lungs as Y/N tried to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

She would kill Heimdall if he sent her to the den of some monster. Holding out her trembling hand, she focused as best she could on her palm, allowing for a small flame to grow just above the middle of her hand.

Slowly, more of the cabin became illuminated revealing a large fireplace with a small kitchenette beside it, a shelf stuffed with books and a single bed pushed into the far corner. A mass of blankets sat on top of the mattress, moving slightly as another groan echoed through the room.

Now less frightened, Y/N quietly inched to the bed. The pile shifted again, revealing the top of their head. Raven hair fanned out over the pillow beneath them. Y/N held her breath as she gently pulled back the covers with her free hand.

“Oh Loki.” This was the boy she loved so long ago, all grown up.

He was so infallibly human, pale skin free from any of the dark markings she had remembered. A long nose and high cheekbones made him even more regal, if it wasn't for the gauntness of his cheeks and the almost bruise-like dark circles beneath his eyes.

She let herself touch his forehead but quickly pulled away when she felt the extreme chill that his skin held. This was far colder than she had ever seen from him before. He could barely move as he unconsciously leaned into her warmth.

“Shit. We have to get you warmed up.” Quickly, Y/N tucked the blankets around him again before she scurried over to the fireplace, praying that there was any sort of firewood around.

Loki groaned as she moved away. “I know, just a minute.” She gave a small shout of triumph as she found a few logs in the kitchen cabinet. Throwing them into the hearth with very little grace and fell to her knees. Wrapping a hand around one of the pieces of wood in the centre of the pile, she took a deep breath.

Heat raced through her veins and far easier than ever before, fire bloomed from her skin, setting the wood alight. She sighed in relief as the cabin's air began to warm up but not nearly quick enough for her taste.

She looked back at her husband who's dark brows were now scrunched together as if he were in pain while he continued to shiver violently. Rising to her feet, Y/N stripped off her sweater and shorts, leaving her only in her underwear as she approached the bed once more.

Loki's body trembled with the cold as she pulled back the sheets, but stopped as soon as she slipped behind him, curling her soft body around him as best she could. One arm wound around his stomach, her palm coming to rest right above his heart as her other hand slid beneath the pillow and his head, almost cradling him.

He was so weak, barely a glimmer of the man she married remained as the fever ravaged him. It would have been easy to walk right back out of that door and let him die for the things that he did. But instead, her arms tightened around his body.

She couldn't leave him, not when he refused to abandon her, not when his very presence soothed the rage sea of fire within her.

“Just rest now, I'll take care of you.” She placed a kiss on his temple then shut her eyes, her mind finally at peace.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” Her voice called out to him through a fog. Loki smiled and pried his eyes open to see his wife standing before a roaring fire, an open book in her hands. She only wore a shirt of his and nothing else, leaving very little to the imagination which he was incredibly grateful for.

“The gods must have smiled upon me to grant me such a dream.” He murmured, happily settling back into the bed to watch what he believed to be his last moments. “I have missed you so, little star. I do hope that you are safe and that you are happy without me.”

The book snapped shut and he raised an eyebrow at her, making her put the book back upon the shelf so he could have her undivided attention. “This isn't a dream.” She stated firmly but Loki just laughed weakly under his breath.

“This must be a dream because I know you would never come back, not after I've done so much evil.” Her steps were light as she walked back to him. He opened his arms to her, willing this apparition to grant him one last shred of comfort.

But she did not obey, instead she took his hand and laid it upon her breast, letting him feel the heat of her skin and the beating of her heart. “I am real. I am here. And you have been a complete bastard but you are my husband and it is my duty to be beside you and keep you from making any more stupid decisions.”

She released her hold on his wrist but Loki's touch remained firmly planted on her as if to convince himself that this was, in fact, real. “I am not dead?”

“Not as far as I can tell.” She replied.

“And you are here with me?”

“Took the Bifrost myself.” Y/N traced the line of his jaw carefully as if her touch could break him. “You've been so sick, burning a fever that I almost couldn't stop. I've been here for days and this is the first time you've been coherent enough to realise that you weren't alone anymore.”

The crackle of the fire masked the sound of yet another storm outside, providing the lost prince with a comfort he had not felt since she was last in his arms. "Thank you.” He whispered, though it was not just for her healing hand. Loki nuzzled into her touch as his own still felt the strong beat of her heart.

He stopped for a moment then spoke once more. “Why did you come back, really?”

Loki watched with bated breath as Y/N sighed deeply, seemingly lost in her own thoughts as she struggled to answer him. Unable to help himself, his hands wandered down to her wide hips and cupped them softly. “I remember you- this you.” Her fingertips brushed along his cheekbone, his now green eyes gazing up at her with reverence.

“I remember that first summer when I met you. You were so small then, but of course so was I. You were always so kind to me, telling me stories of heroes and gods. Then you would leave, for weeks, sometimes months and I often wondered if I had just dreamed you up. Mom said you were real because I believed in you but not all mothers indulge their children.” She chuckled and her fingers moved to his hair, tangling themselves in the soft locks.

She let him pull her closer so that his chin could rest upon her sternum, having to bend slightly forward so that his head would not connect to her collarbone, even in his human form Loki still towered over her. Her brow crinkled. “But I forgot you. And yet, that feeling of home, of safety, of love still remained, even when I hated your guts and you kept me locked in that stupid fucking bedroom.” He groaned into her skin.

“I won't apologise for that.” He grumbled.

“I know.” She cooed. “It was all so confusing and terrifying, I couldn't recall what was real and what was because of my broken mind but you were there and in your own way, you helped me. Your rules, your temper, your teachings- all of it grounded me, let me realise that I could trust in something if I couldn't trust myself.”

“And what is that?” His words were a mere breath of air as Y/N took his hands into her own, her warmth and his chill blending together perfectly, and guided him to his feet. He obeyed easily, only stumbling for a moment as his body struggled to remain upright after being in bed for weeks.

“That I love you.” His eyes flicked over her face, almost searching for any sign of deceit but when he found none, his control shattered.

Her lips were just as soft as he remembered, just as addictive, as he kissed her gently. He could feel the beginnings of her smile but it quickly dropped as his hands fell to her wide hips, pinning her to his front.

Y/N gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to snake between her lips. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling at the fine fabric, desperate to get him even closer. Molten heat pooled between her soft thighs as his hardness grew against her soft stomach.

“My princess, do you wish for this to go further?” She moaned at the sincerity of his tone, so different from Steve's. She could help but nod frantically.

“Yes master, I need you.” It was so easy to slip backwards, let him take all of the responsibility and control but Loki's grip tightened while he forced himself from her lips.

“No, not this time. It's just us, the way it should have been so long ago.” The tip of his nose brushed against hers gently in reverence. “Just you and me, nothing more.”

Her smile widened as her eyes sparkled with adoration. “Yes, I want to be with you Loki.” His expression melted.

“You are everything.” This time his kiss was far more desperate. His touch seemed to be everywhere, exploring every part of her that he could while refusing to part from her swollen lips.

Her arms wound around his neck as Loki's hands traced up the soft skin of her thighs, slipping beneath her shirt before coming to a stop right where her legs met her hips.

He froze and then a growl rumbled through his chest. “You weren't fucking wearing anything under this?” He hissed, making her giggle softly.

“What, it's not like you keep a healthy stock of panties here and I spent three days nursing you back to health.”

“Fuck.” He groaned and before she could even yelp, he turned and threw her onto the bed, knocking most of the pillows off with the force of it. “You delectable temptress, you have enchanted me.”

His own shirt was quickly shed, revealing to her a lean but muscular torso decorated with faint silvery lines of scars and hairless save for a trail of it leading to a dark thatch of it right at the axis of his hips.

At the sight, Y/N squeezed her thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction to ease her aching cunt. His black trousers were pulled tight with the weight of his cock which was getting harder by the second.

“Come here husband.” She held her arms open to him, mirroring the way he had done for her mere minutes before.

Green eyes stared deeply into her own e/c ones as Loki slowly placed his hands on either side of her calves and began to crawl up the length of her body, forcing her legs apart in order to slip his body between them.

He caught one of her thighs against his knee and as his face finally levelled with hers, he pushed her leg forwards, leaving her bare and vulnerable to him. Only a thin layer of fabric kept them apart now. “Anything for you, wife.”

His breath fanned across her lips, his raven hair hanging down like a curtain that sealed them away from the rest of the realms. No more words were needed, everything that he wanted to tell her and she him was caught in the lustful gaze that neither wished to break.

Her leg tightened around his slim hip, pulling him impossibly closer. Their moans wove together like wisps of smoke as his still covered cock pressed against her pussy.

Leaning his weight onto one hand, Loki's other slipped between them, all-too eager to finally have her.

Y/N lifted her head to kiss him once more as slender fingers cupped her mound. “Loki.” Her hips bucked, trying to get him to move faster to the place she needed him most but he would not budge.

“Patience my star, I do not wish to hurt you.” But his voice wavered with his effort to stop himself from taking her right then. She whined pitifully, now growing desperate for some kind of relief.

“I don't care, I just want you.” His head dropped to the crook of her neck as he groaned. “Please, do not make me beg.” She could feel his control begin to wane even as he drew closer to her dripping entrance.

His teeth nipped at her skin in warning but of course she would not heed it. “I'm a god, you cannot hurt me.” She tried one last time.

Loki chuckled, his back shifting beneath her hands. “Well then, perhaps I shouldn't deprive my princess of what she so clearly wants any more.” She could barely bite back her whine as he pulled away from her.

The ties to his trousers loosened with barely a flick of his wrist, releasing himself from the now entirely too-tight confines of the fabric. He let out a sigh of relief then shucked the pants down his legs as best he could without adding anymore space between them.

His cock rested between her lips teasingly, the chill from him sending pleasured goosebumps across her body. Loki pressed the head against her entrance. “Are you sure?” He asked once more, his tone now entirely soft.

“I've never been more sure of anything.”

The stretch was unlike anything she had felt before, carrying with it a sharp pinch of pain and a mind-numbing fullness that had her jaw dropping in a silent scream. He was carving out his place inside of her, marking her as eternally his.

“By the gods.” He snarled through clenched teeth. “You are tight.” The muscles in his back rippled as he tentatively pushed forwards, forcing another inch inside her already stuffed cunt. Her back arched into his chest in some desperate attempt to make more room for his monstrous cock.

“Big.” Was all she could gasp out through pressure in her stomach. Loki's hips stuttered and suddenly he was fully seated within her, his heavy balls tightly pressed to her ass as the base of his pelvis shone with the sheer amount of wetness that had been dripping from her.

He pressed his mouth to her lips in a messy kiss as he tried to regain some semblance of control. “That's it, that's my good girl. You took it all so well. I'm so proud of you.”

Her pussy rippled around him at the praise. “Princess.” He moaned and unable to stop himself any longer, Loki pulled out just a couple inches and then thrust back into her warmth quickly.

It sent shockwaves of pleasure up her spine and pushed the pain to the back of her mind. Her heel dug into his back. “More.” She cried. “Please, more!”

Her whole body jolted up the mattress with his next thrust and she wailed into the air. “Whatever you wish, my star. I would do everything for you.”

Tears rolled down her temples as he gripped her waist, keeping her body still for him to plunder. “You are more divine than the heavens, than any dream that my broken mind could conjure.”

He hit that special place inside her that forced the air from her lungs and made her vision spot with blackness as ecstasy curled around the base of his spine. “My pet.”

He thrust again. “My princess.”

Her nails sliced into his shoulders as her body wound tight. “My guiding star.”

His hips lost their rhythm for a moment and Y/N was finally able to choke out- “My Loki.”

Their ends collided together in a storm of epic proportions as they held each other close, unwilling to let go of their most precious possession.

“I love you.” Loki managed to say between breaths.

“I love you.” She responded immediately. He looked down at her, seemingly unable to find anything else to say until his eyes dropped to where her shirt had exposed her chest.

The silver of the necklace glinted brilliantly in the dying firelight, shining like a star. “You- you didn't take it off.”

Her gaze followed his own and then travelled back to his face. “Not even for a second.”

And as their lips met once more, Loki thought that if this was a dream, he wished to never awaken again.

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